


Hardcopy

by Ekkorn



Category: American (US) Actor RPF, Sebastian Stan - Fandom
Genre: A Friend Assured Me This Constitutes Slow Burn, Alternate Universe, Because The Man Does Not Have A Twin, Buts Gotta Tag Those Fucking Tags, Cat, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Good Lord It's Sickening, Google Maps Translated NYC, Google Translated Romanian, Internal Monologue, No Matter How Much That'd Be Neat, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Romance, Romantic Fluff, SO, Slow burn(s), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vaginal Sex, Yikes, google translated italian, so sweet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2019-09-06 18:19:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 82,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16837882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ekkorn/pseuds/Ekkorn
Summary: What if Sebastian Stan had a twin.





	1. Anyone for coffee?

[Credit](https://www.instagram.com/p/BNuvh2XgYcN/)

The downpour had me running and skipping puddles while trying to hang on to my coat and bag as I made my way through the crowd to the nearest sanctuary. I made a last heroic leap over a pool of dirty water and hit the door of the Starbucks, wrenched it open and crashed into the throng of people that had taken refuge inside.

“Ooooff.” The man nearly doubled over as I hit him, his cap falling off, and I bumped my head into his when we both reached down for it. “Ouch!” He erected himself, hand clasping the wounded area, his face scrunched up in a grimace.“Take it easy, it’s just water.”

“Oh god. I’m so so sorry, I—” I stopped in my tracks, my hand tight around the cap, an expression of disbelief colouring my face. “You’re Se—”

“Alex.” He gave me a half-hearted smile, gritting his teeth, fingers still massaging his head. “Alexander.”

I couldn’t wrench my eyes away, but I could feel the protest building up in my chest, and before I knew it it was bubbling uncontrollably out of my mouth. “No, but you’re—”

“Stan. _Alexander_ Stan.”

_Alexander Stan. Yes. The other half. Huh._

He looked at me, one hand held up in a disarming gesture while the other gradually stopped rubbing his injury. I could feel a lump forming at the point of impact on my own temple, but somehow I couldn’t concentrate enough to care. I tried to convince my face to revert back to neutral folds, but to no avail, I was still staring shamelessly. He was an exact copy. Exact. And I should know, I’d spent more than a casual amount of time looking at the original.

His eyes were a sparkling light blue, bordering on steely grey on account of the dull overcast lighting, his hair deep brown, longer on top and falling casually into his face, full cheeks, razor-sharp cheekbones, his jawline far too accentuated by the stubble, and his lips. Those damn lips. Pinkish red, full and with a sheen of moisture, the hint of brilliant teeth emerging as they stretched into a small smile.

I let out a long breath, hoping it wasn’t too obvious, but judging from the playful glint in his eyes, that ship had set sail long before it formed into coherent thought. And his scent… Damn. It was the best it had ever smelled inside a crowded Starbucks in the rain, of that I was certain.

“Hi.” The word was barely a whisper, so I swallowed and gave it another go. “Hi. Sorry about that.” I nodded towards his head, held out his hat and tried for an apologetic smile. He looked down at my hand and took it in his, shaking it lightly while retrieving the cap.

“That’s quite alright. This weather is making everyone crazy.” He pulled the hat back on, tucked an errant strand of hair behind his ear, and I shook my head slightly, trying to snap myself out of the incessant ogling I was subjecting him to.

“It’s bound to ease up, and then it’ll be breathable in here again.” His smile widened and his tongue flickered over his lips, contributing to the sheen.

I could feel myself subconsciously mirroring him, his gaze lingering on my mouth, rendering me lightheaded. The burning in my cheeks confused me, how could I have any blood left from all that was being redirected between my legs? Eyes still glued to the movement of him biting his lower lip, I cleared my throat again and managed a croak.

“Yes. Yes, I’m sure it will be.” I backed away half a pace, hitting the back of the chair behind me, I couldn’t stand having him so damn close. “My name is Live.”

He gave me a quizzical look.

“Or Liv. Liv is fine. I’m really sorry about your head.” Someone else starting pushing the door open from the outside and shoved him against me, rendering my small attempt at escape completely void. If anything he was even closer, the sleek exterior of his camo down jacket brushed against my coat, and the heat of his body engulfed me. 

“Hi, Live. Nice to meet you.” He pronounced the extra syllable studiously, ignoring my assumptions, and I felt an unexpected swell in my chest and smiled shyly.

He erected himself more to brace against the push from the crowd behind him, clearly not wanting to encroach on my space. The soft din from the other customers seemed insufficient, and I wondered fleetingly if my heartbeat was loud enough for him to actually hear.

_He’s an exact copy. How is it possible? There’s supposed to be a bit of difference._

I hadn’t really seen many pictures of the “other” Stan. He was well known in the fandom, sure, but since he wasn’t in the public eye I’d always avoided studying him too closely. The only times I’d indulged had been when he accompanied his brother on official events, or when they were caught behind the scenes, he sometimes did body double work on the bigger films.

 _They’re completely identical. Down to the last eyelash._ I pulled back into reality with a bit of effort and tried to get my head working, tried to find something to say. Copy or original, there was an opportunity here, and I’d be a fool to miss it.

“You too. Alexander.“

He chuckled, seeing straight through me. “Don’t worry. I’m used to it. And please. It’s Alex.”

The relative proximity had me bathing in his breath, and suddenly it didn’t matter who he looked like, I really only wanted to talk to him. Besides, playing my cards right might get me a signed picture later. 

“Really? I thought it was Xander.” I smiled playfully, not bothering to even try to hide my inner fangirl, it was already too late.

He gave a sharp snort, and his eyes crinkled, a blinding smile on full display. “Yeah, no. Not anymore. I couldn’t really deal with the alliteration any longer, one of those in the family is more than enough.”

There was a sudden exclamation from behind him, and we both turned to look as people started to file outside, the weather finally letting up.

“Thank god. That was getting old. One more person in here and I’d have given up any hope of ever getting a coffee.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, but they were glittering in amusement. 

“Really? You actually came in for the coffee?“ 

"Well, of course. It’s great coffee.” He laughed, nodding towards a free table a bit further in. “And look. Now it’s even available to be enjoyed in a civilised manner.”

I giggled, his ease and confidence rubbing off on me, relieved my shoulder of the bag and turned toward the table.

“What do you want?”

I paused, reached down my pocket for my wallet, but he just waved his hand. “Don’t be silly. It’s on me.”

“Oh. Thank you.” My blush crept up again, but I still tried to appear unruffled. “A… Latte. Just a regular latte.”

He turned and started towards the counter while I made my way over and sank down in the farthest chair, lowered the messenger bag carefully to the floor and shrugged out of my coat.

My eyes never left his form, he was chatting easily with the barista, probably charming her socks off. Apparently the similarities were more than skin deep, this guy was not playing second fiddle to anyone, major movie star or not.

I kept my breathing as even as possible, preparing for the inevitable lack of air when he returned and tried to smoothen my hair, wishing dearly for a mirror. Eventually, the drinks were ready, and he picked them up, leaving the other barista equally breathless. 

“Here. I ordered a venti, I generally prefer them myself.” He hung his jacket over the back of the chair before sliding down, facing me, his legs stretched out under the table. His ankle brushed mine lightly, setting my skin on fire at the point of impact. “You obviously don’t have to drink the whole thing.”

As predicted I could feel my pulse quicken, but I was satisfied with the apparent calm in my voice as I answered.

“No. This is great.” I blew the top carefully before taking a small sip, opened the lid and added a few lumps of sugar. “I always go for the big ones.”

As the words rung out I became aware of the possible innuendo, and an involuntary chuckle forced its way out. His crinkling eyes met mine over the edge of his cup, and I could see he’d caught it too. He set down his drink with a big grin and a satisfied smack of his lips. 

“I’m going to be a gentleman and not follow through on that one.” His gaze had me half wanting to sink down and half wanting to sit up closer, so I settled on neither, just twisting in my seat, not breaking eye contact.

“So. Live. Lovely name by the way.” He smiled brilliantly, and my blush deepened. Again. Damn. He was unreal. I had never been so easily affected by anyone. Ever. “Where are you from? What do you do?”

“Er… N-Norway. I’m from Norway.”

“Really? I pegged you Midwest, your accent is incredible.” He smiled warmly, and I completely lost my train of thought, half from pride, and half from insult. Did I really sound like I came from the Midwest? Dialogue from Fargo flashed through my mind, and I kicked myself for not being able to hold on to my British accent while I was surrounded by these colonists, surely that would be more of an achievement. Then reason kicked in, and I told my brain to clap its trap, Sebastian Stan’s brother had just complimented me, and why was I even thinking at all?

“And you’re just visiting? Working? Holiday?”

“Um… I’m working on my thesis. A-At, er, Colombia. I just came from my adviser now.” Wow. Such eloquence, no wonder he’s so smitten. Are those his real eyes, or do they just wear contacts to ease the process of photoshoppers.

His eyebrows shot up appreciatively. “Really? What’s your field?”

“Well, English Lit. I’m writing on the use of classical rhetoric in John Milton’s Paradise Lost.” Wow. Look at you being all scholarly and shit. He’s impressed. Oh my fucking god, just not.

"Impressive and interesting. Not that I could actually relate, but is sounds intriguing. I’m a lawyer.” He sent me a crooked smile. “But you knew that.”

It was a statement, not a question, and I tried as hard as I could to will the blush from spreading again to absolutely no avail.

“That obvious, huh.” I held his gaze, even if my eyes kept fluttering down to his mouth every time he moved those glorious lips. “Well, your brother is a very talented man.” I was a bit surprised to see some colour seeping into his cheeks as well, but familial pride could do that. And he must be hearing this all the time.

“Yes, well. Don’t ever tell him that. I certainly never do.” He took a long draught of coffee, tears watering a little at the heat. “But you’re right. He’s the big pride of the family.”

I copied him, still keeping eye contact, damn those eyes were hypnotic. “So. What kind of law do you practice?”

He shot me another smirk, and I rolled my eyes, I was loosening up, he was so charming, so damn likeable. Some people just have all the luck, that gene pool must be the jackpot of life’s lottery.

“Oh, come on. I don’t know everything. Contrary to your beliefs I’m not some obsessed fangirl.” A blatant lie, but how was he to know. “I’m just really into comics.” His grin widened. “And comic book movies.”

“Well, of course. Who isn’t? So who’s your favourite superhero?” He leaned forward, dropped his voice a few octaves, and the heat was back, coursing through me. I grinned back, squirming a little, fighting off the mental images that flashed through my mind, of course even his voice had to be identical. Still, right at that moment I could think of no one else I’d rather sit opposite, the matter of copy or original didn’t seem important at all.

“Ironman. Of course.” I edged forward, hiding it behind shifting in my seat, and grabbed my cup, taking a small sip. I licked my lips studiously, ecstatic to see his eyes drift down to my mouth again. Well, this was really getting interesting. “What’s yours?”

“Iron Man for me too. Definitely. Downey is fantastic. I also really like the sorcerer.” He closed in further, leaning on his elbows, one of his hands almost making contact with mine.

I swallowed, my other hand reaching blindly for my cup. I pulled it towards me, but my lack of attention caused me to misjudge, and suddenly I flew up as the hot liquid was spreading all over my chest and jeans. 

“FUUUUCK!” I was grabbing my shirt, pulling frantically at the soaked fabric, shaking it away from my skin, cooling it off. “SHIT! GoddAMMIT!” I was vaguely aware of the shape of him skirting the table, his hand dabbing a napkin down my thighs, muttering.

“Shhh. Stand still. My god, are you alright, did you burn yourself?”

His breath hit my face, and I became acutely aware of him crouching over me, my shirt clinging to my chest, and his hand clamped around my hip to keep me steady. I froze when his other hand found its way to the bared skin of my stomach, the dabbing slowly subsiding as he became aware of what he was doing. He lessened his hold, but didn’t move, our breaths were mingling, our mouths just a few inches apart.

“I’m okay.” His brilliant eyes filled my whole field of vision, the air hummed with tension, and my brain was racing, trying to catch up to what was actually happening. “I’m just a mess. I didn’t get burnt.”

He cleared his throat and finally dropped both his hands, taking a small step back, biting his lip, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Good. That’s good. I’m glad.” His eyes wandered down, taking in the stained front of my clothing, and he tossed the napkin on the table before he reached down, grabbed my coat and handed it to me. “Come on.”

I took the coat and shrugged into it, not quite following. “Where are we going?”

“My place. We’ve got to get you cleaned up. You can’t walk around like that.” I hesitated, and he shot me a teasing look. “What? You doubt my intentions?”

“No, I just… No, not at all.” I smiled back, tightened the coat around me, picked up my bag, and sent him my most confident smile, trying to ignore the fluttering in my chest. “Not at all. Show the way.”

He grabbed his jacket, went over to the door and held it open for me. 

“My place is just a block away, we’ll get you fixed up in no time.” He took the bag from my hand when we got outside and fell into step with me, shooting me a furtive glance, quickly averting his eyes when I caught him. “It’s just over there.” He nodded towards a corner entrance on the far side of the street and checked traffic before stepping into the road, leading the way.

We walked into a marble lobby, a sharp contrast to the dull brick exterior, and he nodded a greeting to the doorman before halting in front of the lift. I hoped my eyes didn’t betray my wonder, it looked much more high end than I had expected. The elevator doors slid open, and he gestured me inside and pressed the button before settling beside me, an almost shy expression on his face.

“Yes. My brother’s success does have its perks. Don’t tell him that either.”

I laughed and shook my head. “It wouldn’t have occurred to me.” I kept my eyes fixed on the metal door in front of me, actively trying to stop my heart from pounding its way out of my chest. “Besides, you never answered me. For all I know this could be all you.”

“Answered what?” I felt his eyes on me, but doggedly kept from looking back, I wasn’t sure how I’d keep my composure if I did.

“What kind of law you practice.” 

“Oh. Right. That.” I could hear the grin, and I scrunched my eyes briefly, fighting hard to hide what his voice was doing to me. “I’m doing a stint at the public defender’s office.” Fuck. Really? Public servitude too. Damn. There was no end to the perfection. “I have a junior partnership lined up though.”

The elevator came to an abrupt halt, effectively pausing my reply, and he stepped out, again gesturing for me to step in front of him. Yeah, I was in big trouble.

“It’s right down the hall. Second door on the left.”

I walked slowly, my heart threatening to flat out stop for overexertion. He unlocked the door and went in before me, hitting the lights in a small hallway, hung his jacket on a coat rack, and deposited my bag at the door.

“Please. Come in.” He held out his hands for my coat, and I shrugged it off before taking in my surroundings.

It was a small loft: light and airy, the walls bared to show of the original structures, three tall windows, a small kitchen nook at the far end, and a winding staircase leading up to a platform, no doubt containing the sleeping area. It was much more modest than I had first envisioned, and it made me feel better, maybe he wasn’t so removed from me as I’d thought. I finally looked back at him, and again I noticed a shyness or something self-conscious in his expression. 

“Right. The bathroom is up there, I’ll show you.” He moved past me and jogged up the stairs. I followed him up, tried not to notice the massive bed and found him rooting through a closet, extracting a shirt and some sweatpants. He handed them to me, went over and pushed the bathroom door open. “Here. If you just leave your clothes outside the door I’ll get them in the wash.”

I took the bundle and entered, leaning heavily against the door, trying to will my lungs to work properly. _He’s just being nice, don’t read anything into this._ I got my hands working, shedded my top and jeans, and started working on unbuttoning the shirt, trying to keep my hands from shaking. Damn. I was a mess in more ways than one. Shit. With a pang, I realised my bra was just as drenched as my shirt and sticky with milk and sugar from the latte. _Shit, shit, SHIT._ I briefly thought about not giving a fuck, but I really didn’t want to stain his shirt, so I took it off and hid it between the other garments, hoping against hope he wouldn’t actually stop to notice it. 

“Do you mind if I take a quick shower?” I didn’t shout, sensing I didn’t have to, and sure enough, his response was immediate.

“No, of course not. Go right ahead. Just give me your clothes first, and I’ll get them started.” I could hear some faint shuffling outside before he continued. “You can open the door, I’m still being the perfect gentleman.”

I smiled to myself, if there was one thing I didn’t want him to be, it was that, and I had a feeling he knew only too well. I opened the door, slipped my hand around it while I kept from view, and tossed the bundle on the floor outside. 

“Just run it through a quick cycle, if you get the worst off I’ll be fine to take the train home later.” I peered out, watching him crouch down to pick it up, turning around before hesitating at the top of the stairs.

“You just take your time, I’ll get some coffee going.” The shy smile was back, and I watched him disappear down the stairs before sliding the door shut and took a long moment to steady myself.

How did I even get here? _Alexander Stan. Sebastian Stan’s fucking brother._ I stripped out of my underwear and took in the luxurious, gleaming tile, the full-length mirror, the spacious shower and the clawfoot tub. I ran the shower, securing my hair in a loose bun with the tie I had pulled from my pocket, and let myself soak, making the hot water calm my nerves.

The ache between my legs notwithstanding, I felt better and dried myself off with a fluffy towel before getting dressed. I could hear the soft clinking of cutlery and assumed the coffee was ready, making me hurried and clumsy. I was torn, honestly—one part of me just wanted to hide up there, but the other didn’t want to waste any more time than I had to.

The shirt was a light blue, soft silk, and I could feel my nipples pucker against it, making me wonder if he’d chosen it on purpose. Nah. It was just the first one he found, surely. The sweats were black and too big, even when I pulled the drawstring as far as I could. Well, it was all I had, so on slightly unsteady feet I went outside, brushed my fingers along the smooth dark wood of the railing, pausing a little at the camo jacket he’d presumably hung there to dry as I made my way to the stairs.

He looked up, followed my decent and held out a steaming mug in welcome.

“Here. There’s no milk. Sorry.” 

“That’s alright. I take it black usually. Latte is the exception, not the rule.” I took it gingerly, taking a sip before nodding in approval. “Mmmm. This is some serious gourmet shit.”

He laughed, his eyes roaming all over me, and held up his cup in a toast.

“Looks better on you than on me.” He winked, and I smirked back, a lump of air constricting my chest. I ignored it and stepped over to where he was leaning against the counter.

“I sincerely doubt that.” The murmur was high enough to hear, I was sure, as I mirrored his position, letting my eyes return the compliment, taking him in.

His hair was dishevelled, falling casually down his temples, he was bare armed, perfectly toned muscles and veins gently playing under smooth skin, black jeans draped low on his hips, clinging snugly to his thighs, and bare feet tapping slowly on the hardwood floor. When I glanced back up my breath caught—only a thin sliver of blue was visible around the pools of black in his eyes, his lip caught firmly between his teeth, his jaw clenched, his throat bobbing. I stood dumb, unable to get my head working when he inched closer, his warm hand covering mine on the countertop. My fingers moved on their own accord, spreading out, welcoming his between them, pulling him closer. He bent down, leaving his mouth just out of reach, his chest lightly stroking my breasts.

“Listen. I’m n—” I lifted my head, and his lips were teasing mine, prying them apart, and I couldn’t contain the whimper that escaped me.

Suddenly I was pressed against him, his hand on my lower back, my own treading his hair, clinging to him. My mouth opened, his tongue crashed into mine, exploring hungrily and a groan rumbled in his chest. I could feel the soft fabric of the shirt and sweats give way to the much coarser denim of his fly, but there was no mistaking the growing hardness, and my hips ground against him, eliciting another low moan.

“Fuck.” He broke the kiss, leaving us both winded, and tried again. “Damn. I didn’t—Listen, I need to—” 

“What?” I spoke softly into his mouth, my hand roaming down his shoulder and arm, marvelling at the firmness, eventually coming to a halt at his waist. _They even share their workout regimen, how do the other patrons at the gym stand it?_ He responded with a muffled exclamation, and his mouth was on me again, his hand releasing mine before joining the other behind my back, bunching up the shirt, hitting naked skin.

My arms flew up around his neck, lifting myself up, grinding my whole torso to his, and suddenly I was on the counter, his hips nudging my knees apart, settling between them and dragging my ass forward. I was only half aware that the desperate, deep moan I was hearing came from me when I felt my soaked centre pressed to the hard ridge of his erection, but the rumbling growl told me he’d felt it too.

“Fuck. I didn’t expect—” He rested his forehead on mine, breathing raggedly and swallowed hard. “Live.” The sound of my name in his breathless voice caused another pool of heat and wetness to gather, and I could only whimper as I tugged at his hair and shoulders, egging him on. “But I’m not hi—” 

“Shhh. I don’t give a shit. I want _you_.” 

“Oh god. Fuck it. Wanna take it upstairs?”

“Hell yes.” I latched on to his mouth again, hooked my legs around him, let his hands get a firm grip on my buttocks as he hurried over to the stairs, taking them two at a time. He deepened the kiss before slowly letting me fall to the floor, allowing the motion to drag his hands up, settling them around my waist under the shirt. **  
**

I let go of his neck, started in on the buttons with frantic, jagged movements, but he stilled my hands, taking over and deftly popped them all, pausing and catching my eyes for confirmation before he carefully pushed the shirt off my shoulders. He held his breath while I shrugged it off, eyes wide as he took me in, not stifling a sharp gasp when he ghosted a thumb over a nipple, watching me shudder as it hardened under his touch.

“Beautiful.” He was mumbling, almost distractedly, tongue flicking out, adding to the shine on his lips. “Just beautiful.” With his hands gripping my ribs, he kept my eyes locked in his as he bent down, twirling his tongue around the other nipple before closing his lips, sucking gently as I whimpered, my breathing reduced to shallow puffs. 

“Fuuuuuck.” My fingers dug deep in his skull, combed his hair away from his face, giving me an unrestricted vision. The sight of identical shining red lips on me wasn’t something new, in my head they had been there for years, but the real thing, _this_ real thing was more glorious than I could’ve ever imagined. He moved and paid the other breast the same compliments before licking and kissing his way up my clavicle and neck, nuzzling the nook under my ear, inhaling deeply.

I was on the edge of losing consciousness, I’d completely forgotten how to breathe, wetness coated the inside of my thighs and the throbbing in my core building to near unbearable levels when his mouth finally found mine again. His tongue traced my lips before dipping inside, languidly and gently. His hands spread out, pushed around my back, pulling me closer in an iron grip while he ground against me, groaning deeply, almost drowning out my whines and whimpers. I was nearly hyperventilating when he finally relented and broke the kiss, and his deep satisfied chuckle would have been infuriating had it not been betrayed by his own laboured breathing.

I slid my hands under his t-shirt, my thumbs hooking as I stroked upwards, dragging it with me. He shook as my nails grazed his sides, stepped back a pace, reached up, twisted it over his head, and left my hands on the hard, smooth panes of his pecs. My fingers roamed freely, tickled the fine hairs on his chest, traced the sharp divides of his abs, reached down and settled on the lining of his jeans. Tugging lightly, I kept the friction between my pelvis and his cock, causing air to hitch in his throat. He walked me backwards, lowered me down on the bed, hovered above me, suspended on one arm, and started to pull down the barely secure sweatpants, stroking and kneading my butt and thighs. My ass lifted on its own accord, easing the process, while I found his belt and unhooked the buckle. I stopped dead when his long, smooth fingers found the inside of my thighs and made their way to my drenched panties. 

“Jesus.” He groaned into my ear, sending chills down my spine and a new wave of wetness pooled where his fingers were teasing their way under the useless fabric. “You’re _dripping_. Goddamn, you feel so fucking good.”

He dipped into the slickness in my folds, rubbing my clit in long, slow circles and soon had me bucking and writhing underneath him, arching up, desperate and tethering on the edge within seconds. His whole frame trembled with laughter and he kissed me, his tongue invading my mouth as he finally drove two fingers inside me, hooking up and applying pressure at just the right spot.

The orgasm hit me in waves, pulsing and clenching through my center, my hands clawing into his shoulders and neck. I let out a long drawn moan as my whole body tensed and finally relaxed as he relented the pressure and let me ride it out. I sank back, and he broke the kiss, allowing some air back into my lungs.

“Jesus Christ. I can’t fucking breathe.”

His mouth stretched out into a satisfied grin as he withdrew his hand, his wet fingers leaving a trail over my abdomen, flickering gently over a nipple, tracing my jaw and lips before sucking two into his mouth, closing his eyes and audibly savouring the taste. I rolled my eyes, gripped his hand and pulled it out of his mouth and into mine, twirling my tongue around his middle finger, effectively wiping the smug expression off his face. I reached down, continued my work on his belt, one hand palming him and squeezing his erection through the denim.

A guttural growl gave me half a second warning before he pushed himself up and wrenched the sweats down my legs before he elevated himself on his knees, tore his belt and buttons open, and let me pull his jeans and boxers down before he got up and shrugged them off with fluidity and ease. The sight of him standing over me; perfectly proportioned, wide shoulders, bulging arms, flat, hard abs, narrow waist, sharp v and thick, powerful thighs, and not least his considerable length had me moaning, an embarrassment had not the pure, undiluted lust in his eyes told me he returned the compliment.

“Fuck me. You’re stunning. Fuck me.”

The words got stuck and came out in a whisper, but the smirk playing on his lips left me no doubt he’d heard them.

“Likewise. And I plan to.”

I snorted at the astonishing insolence, but he only smirked wider. With the same confident smugness he lowered himself back on the bed, crawled up slowly, slid one hand under my waist and gripped the swell of my ass, tugging it towards him and sinking me down, while the other pushed my knees apart, letting him settle between them. His cock twitched, leaving slick, wet dabs on my inner thigh, and I rotated my hips instinctively, my hands stroking down his sides, kneading his firm ass.

“Fuck.” He breathed the expletive and braced himself on one arm while the other reached over to the nightstand, wrenched the drawer open and started rooting through the content. I dug my nails softly into his butt and spread my legs further, my heels sinking into the sheets and had him sliding up my slit. “GoddaMNIT.”

He sent me a dark look, took in my brilliant and, I hoped, innocent smile, before he started furiously pulling the contents out of the drawer, tossing it on the floor until he finally extracted a box of condoms.

“You’re the fucking devil.” He shook his head in mock exasperation and had me giggling while I watched him tear the foil with his teeth, spit it out, and sink one knee down for support as he rolled on the condom in one fluid motion. I held my breath as he twisted around and shrugged back into position, gently poking at the wet heat at my entrance. He locked my eyes in his, all the blue completely swallowed, his arm snaking down, hooking one of my knees lightly in the crook of his elbow, the other at the small of my back, elevating me slightly. I had one hand around his neck, twining my fingers in his hair while the other found its way back to his ass, yanking and tugging, leaving him in no doubt as to my wishes.

“You’re also fucking fantastic.” The ragged whisper washed over my mouth as his lips moulded to mine, his tongue plunging deeper than ever, his hips finally gaining momentum and carefully sinking his full length inside me, slowly and studiously. My head flew back, mouth open, air bursting out in shallow whimpers as he stroked and stretched me, hitting deeper than I thought possible before he shivering came to a stop, completely seated, rotating his hips, rubbing his pelvis against my clit.

“Ohmygodohmygod.” My legs fell to the side, wanting him even deeper and I grabbed his face with both hands, kissing him, just enjoying the insane pleasure of his cock pulsing and jerking inside, satiating the sweet ache in my pussy, invading me, _filling me_ , my walls already contracting around him. He groaned loudly and went rigid for a long moment before releasing my mouth, his face rubbing my neck, scruff chafing as he kissed and licked while he slowly pulled out, leaving only his head and I clawed at him, willing him back inside.

“Please.” I felt pathetic, but the loss of him had me desperate, my whole core felt like it was on fire, and he finally obliged and plunged in. My hips were bucking, my spine curving, as I kicked back, opening myself up, every nerve making contact. He was panting heavily, his heart thundering in my chest, his skin slick with sweat, sliding against mine.

“Fuck. You feel too fucking good. I’m not gonna last long.” His voice was low and strained, I could feel his jaw gritting, shooting a wave of warmth through me, and I turned and sucked at his earlobe, nipping playfully before I hooked my free leg behind his back in response, the closer contact leaving me already on the verge of coming.

“Fuuuuck.”

He shoved himself up, braced one hand beside my head, the other flat on my thigh, pushing it up, ground his hips in one hard circle, watching me squirm beneath him as he withdrew one last time.

“Goddamn you’re beautiful.” He slammed back in, and I let out a small cry as he began pounding me relentlessly. 

“Fuckfuckfuck.” He fucked the words out of me, I was gasping helplessly, the intensity of sensation almost smothering as he stroked and pushed, ground and crashed into every single exposed nerve ending. “I’m com- Alex, I’m cooom-”

My eyes rolled back as pleasure beyond anything I’d felt surged through me in massive torrents, and with one hard, last push he fell on top of me with a primal grunt, heaving for air, his cock jerking and twitching as my walls squeezed and convulsed frantically. I lay back, revelling in the weight of him, feeling every muscle in my body relax as the roaring in my ears subsided and our respiration and heartbeats slowly returned to a normal.

I let out a contented sigh, and he was laughing again, the sound muffled by the pillow, before he rolled off me, gripping the condom as he fell on his back. He tied it off and dropped it beside the bed before he pulled me over to snuggle alongside him, his fingers kneading my shoulder and brushing against my cheek.

“That was… unexpected.” He smiled almost tenderly, a sharp contrast from the smug confidence he’d displayed only minutes before, and kissed me lightly, pressing his neck into my forehead, his chin resting at the top of my head. I giggled softly, my fingers drawing small circles on his chest, breathing him in, still dazed by the situation.

“Yes. It was.” I let out another blissful giggle, rubbing my face into the scruff sprinkled down his neck, settling my knee on his thighs. “Not the way I saw my afternoon go, that’s for sure.”

He laughed silently, kissing my hair. “Is that a complaint?” He squeezed my shoulder and looked down, catching my eyes, the smile still playing on his lips.

“Did it seem like I was complaining?” I traced a finger along his jaw and lips before nudging him lightly.

“So no regrets then.”

“No. No regrets.” I sighed again, leaned into him, and he inhaled deeply, puffing up his cheeks. I looked up, questioning him silently.

“Any plans later?” The words were rushed, almost weary of my reaction, visibly relaxing when I shook my head.

“No. Well, I was going to go through my notes, but that can wait.” I gave him an encouraging smile, willing him to continue.

“Good.” He chewed his cheek before he continued. “Do you want to go out to dinner?”

I grinned up at him, warmth and happiness filling me. “Yes. Yes. That’d be nice.”

His eyes crinkled, and his whole face broke out in a blinding smile, damn his teeth were white and straight.

“Excellent.” He leaned in for another kiss, and I obliged, his tongue barely fluttering at mine, and I could feel myself getting wet again. I pressed against him, and he reached up, threading his other hand in my hair, opening his mouth. “Really? Another round so soon?” The chuckle was deep and so fucking seductive I was groaning in frustration, almost infuriated by the easy way he was affecting me.

“Well, it’s early yet.” I was elevating myself for better reach when I became aware of a faint beeping from downstairs. I cocked my head and looked at him.

“Damn. That’s the washer.” He fell back heavily and combed his hair away from his eyes, closing them, hiding them by his arm in exasperation.

I copied him before I gingerly sat up, scanning my surroundings for the first time since we got upstairs. The whole floor was littered with debris from the drawer, our clothes contributing to the mess. I got up, fell back down when he grabbed my wrist and pulled me in for one last kiss. “We’ll get back to this.”

I smiled my agreement, pecked him on the cheek and got up, paused a second to try my balance, and found my panties and the shirt and got into them, his eyes on me the whole time.

“I’ll get the laundry, maybe you should look to the mess.” I nudged my toe at the used condom, raising my brows in judgement. He sat up, and shook his head, grabbed his jeans and started pulling them on. I smiled at him as I turned and jogged down the stairs.

“It’s through the hall.” He stood leaning on the railing, nodded his head in the right direction before he turned back, presumably to start in on the task. I made my way to the laundry room, extracted my clothes and was shaking them out, inspecting the result when I heard a key in the lock outside.

“FUCK.” The sound of the door opening was drowned out by the hammering of feet thundering down the stairs, and I froze, completely taken aback.

“What the-” The familiar voice stopped abruptly when an identical one started muttering frantically in Romanian. “Hey, slow down, what the fuck are you talking about?”

_“Am o femeie aici și ea crede că sunt tu! Vă rugăm să ieși înainte ca ea te vede!!!!_

_"Tu glumești??”_

_“Nu. Vă rog, Aleksei. Doar pleaca.”_ The confusion was apparent, and I turned to the door, put my hand on the knob, and opened it gingerly.

Both stopped talking and swung towards me, one face in friendly confusion, the other in a horrified panic. I could feel my jaw go slack as my brain tried to work with the roar of blood filling my ears.

The new arrival was clean shaven, a fitted coat covering his slighter frame, hair a bit shorter and lighter, eyes a small shade darker and the left front tooth a bit askew, the opposite of the one his brother had before he got them straightened. He took a step forward, an inviting and charming smile on his lips, and extended his hand. I took it in a haze, my own hand limp and clammy in his.

“Hi. I’m Alex.” I could see the words rather than hear them, all my focus was on Sebastian, standing behind him with a look of utter chagrin and devastation on his face.


	2. That's just great. Fantastic really.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Live is in a bit of a jam.

[Credit](http://bucky-plums-barnes.tumblr.com/post/154147640583/mermaidinplaid-bucky-plums-barnes-the-stan)

I felt the colour drain from my face, my eyes locked on Sebastian as I tried to kickstart my brain again. In a haze I saw him start towards me, and I instinctively withdrew my hand, turned back and shut the door. I leaned against it, shallow puffs of air escaping me.

“Live?” The knob wriggled lightly, but I braced myself harder, closed my eyes, willing him and his soft voice away. “Live. Please. Open the door.” My legs started sliding, sinking me slowly to the floor and left me there, trying to get my heartbeat and breathing under some control.

“Please. Please, come out. I need to talk to you.”

“Go away, Sebastian.” The last word was choking me, threatening to spill over, but I was damned if I was going to cry over this. I’d just had sex—the best sex of my life—with Sebastian fucking Stan, and I hadn’t even known.

 _Oh god. Oh fucking hell._ My head fell back against the door, my hands clamped my knees and the tears started to force their way out. The door shook lightly, and I could almost see him slumped against it, his face buried in the crook of his elbow, eyes closed, that fucking heartbroken expression.

“Just go away. I can’t talk to you right now.” My voice was too high, the pitch trying to mask the thickness in my chest, but it was better than sobbing.

“Live. I’m sorry. I never meant…” He sighed, clearly at a loss, something sounding like a closed fist thumping gently at the door frame while he shakily exhaled. “Please. Just talk to me, I wanted to tell you, I tried to t—”

“You tried? You _tried_?” Suddenly my voice worked just fine as the anger flared, and I half rose, craning my neck to make the sound carry better. “You tried? What the FUCK was stopping you?” I was on my feet, wrenching the door open, his surprised expression incensing me further.

“No. I only meant… I…. It wasn't—”

I was vaguely aware of Alex in the background, trying to keep out of the way, and I suddenly realised I was still wearing only my panties and a too big a shirt that threatened to open any second. I tightened it around me, the embarrassment adding to the lump in my chest, and Sebastian’s face softened.

He took a small step towards me, hand extended, and I felt my eyes well up again at the sight of him—bare chested, jeans hanging loosely on his hips, his hair bearing witness of the intimacy we’d shared only moments before.

“Live. Please.” I flinched back, trying to blink the tears away, averting my gaze, not wanting to allow the memories to cloud my judgement. “Please. Just listen.”

“Fine. I’ll listen. But make it good, give me one good reason why you didn’t tell me.” I wanted to look at him, to challenge him, but I glued my eyes to the wall beside him, looked straight at the camo jacket, and I wanted to groan. _Fuck_.

His hand fell down, and he straightened, again respecting my space. I snorted at the irony.

“What could possibly have stopped you?”

“I didn’t plan for this. I wasn’t prepared for… This.” The whisper was full of urgency and he bent down, attempting to catch my eyes, his mouth trying for what he must have thought was a soothing smile. “It happened so fast, and I thought… Well, I figured we’d talk after.”

I glanced at him, chewing my cheek, my breath still somewhat ragged.

“That’s not really good enough. You let me believe…” I shook my head, inhaled deeply and tried again. “We had _sex_. I _trusted_ you. I thought you were…” I trailed off again, my chest constricting from putting it into words.

He slumped his shoulders, a picture of absolute contrition and my anger started to seep out.

“You hurt me.”

“I know. I know. But I didn’t mean to. I never meant for it to go that far. I didn’t think…” He sighed again, stuffed his hands in his pockets and bit his lip, the confidence returning and a smirk playing on his lips. “Besides, it’s not like we wouldn’t… That you’d have minded had you kn—” He stopped short, took in my expression, and realised he’d gone too far.

I stopped my hand mid-air for a second, savouring the flash of shock before I continued the curve and slapped the smirk off his face. He stood dumb, cheek reddening, watching as I turned back and sent him a seething look before I slammed the door on him.

I flipped the lock and stood a moment, trying to calm myself before delving back into my clothes. I shook them out, consciously ignoring the sound of his palm gently hitting the door. _FUUUUCK_! I didn’t know who I was more angry at, myself or him, all I could think about was getting out of there with a smidge of dignity. _No one is that much alike. No one. I’m so fucking stupid_. The most irritating part was of course that he was right. I wouldn’t have stopped had I known. Who would? He was Sebastian Stan, and he could afford that kind of confidence. But still. It gave him no right.

“Live. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please open the door, I didn’t mean to imply that y—”

The words sounded hollow even with the desperation and urgency attached, I felt completely empty and stunned. _I’m such a fucking IDIOT!_ I flicked my wet jeans with such force they whipped at my ankles, causing a yelp, and he grew silent a second before he knocked gently, concern even more apparent.

“Live? Are you okay? Please, just open the door.”

“Hey. Stop it.”

The tone confused me for a second before I realised it wasn’t him speaking, and I started towards the door, remembering that I was the intruder, that I had no right to deny _him_ access.

“Just leave it, man. She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“But I have to, I can’t let her…” The wriggling and knocking stopped, and I could hear the rustle of feet as Alex approached him.

“No.” Alex’ voice was calm, but firm, and I could hear the determination, he’d clearly been dealing with worse before. “Give her some time to digest, she needs it, and she deserves it.”

“But what if she doesn’t want to…”

“Well, then that sucks for you, but I’m sorry. You deserve that. You’re behaving like an ass, Seb.”

I couldn’t stop the small grin forming on my lips, and a flood of gratitude filled me.

“Now get dressed and go home, so that she gets to do the same.” A sharp intake of air got stopped before it could exhale the protest. “No. You go home. I’ll talk to her. But you’re leaving.”

A loud slap against a wall mingled with a groan and he was retreating upstairs, his steps slow and heavy, grumbling under his breath. My lungs almost burst under the pressure, I hadn’t breathed through the whole exchange. I felt dizzy, bracing myself on the washer. Well, at least one of them had a sense of common decency. I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth and suppressed a sob, listening acutely, dreading him coming down, dreading the notion that I’d never see him again. _Oh for fucks sake. He lied to you! Get a grip!_ I tried to step into my jeans, but the fabric was too wet, it was clinging and refusing to yield. I let out a frustrated moan and was rewarded with a soft tap on the door.

“Hey. You okay in there?”

 _Fuck_! “I’m fine.” The fake cheeriness resulted in more of a whine, but I hoped he wouldn’t take notice, more pity and concern would be far too much. “I’ll try to get out of your hair as soon as possible.”

“No rush. Take your time.”

I heard steps coming from the other room and leaned into the door, I didn’t want to miss the exchange.

“Good. Oh, and that’s mine, here’s yours.”

A sharp snap of a garment being pulled off a hanger told me I’d been right about the jacket, even if I’d taken too long to clue in. I shook my head dejectedly, trying to ignore the flashes of regret, to keep myself from opening the door and stop him.

 _“Vă rugăm,_ Alexei. _Imi pare rau. Fă-o să înțeleagă cât de rău îmi pare. Îmi place foarte mult de această femeie. Te rog,_ Alexei.”

“No. No, you don’t get to do that. There’s no code. You don’t get to exclude her.”

I could practically hear the eyeroll, a new rush of gratitude surged through me, and my resolve was back. _Damn straight, you ass. You tell him, Alex_.

“Fine. _Fine_. Please tell her I’m sorry. Here.”

“What’s this?” A faint crackling of paper being unfolded and a sarcastic chuckle evolved into a cackle. “You wrote… Oh my god.”

I smiled, imagining what the content could be, hoping it’d redeem him a little, hating the thought of that being all it would take.

“Oh, shut up. Just give it to her.” A swoosh and two stomps told me he slid into his jacket and pulled his boots on before I heard the handle squeak and the door open. “Call me later. And…”

“Yes?”

 _“Obțineți numărul ei pentru mine.”_ The door slammed shut and I could hear Alex scoff, clearly not impressed. The lock clicked and he was there, right outside the door, speaking softly.

“Live?”

I mentally slapped myself, swallowing profusely, but didn’t quite manage to hide the tremor in my voice.

“Yeah. I’ll just…” The sob finally managed to escape, and I was shaking, drying off the tears as they fell, cursing myself. I threw the jeans on the floor in frustration, at a loss on how I would ever get out of there.

“He’s gone. You take your time. I’ll get some coffee going, if you need anything just let me know.” His words became muffled as he walked away, and I found myself unlocking the door, pulling it open. _No. No. No_.

“Alex?”

“Yes?” His face was open and inviting, worry written all over it and I felt a bit better.

“I… I can’t wear my clothes. They’re not dry.” I gave him an apologetic smile, keeping the shirt snugly around me.

His whole demeanour changed, and he brightened, a look of relief in his eyes.

“Oh. So… Do you want to wait for the dryer or borrow something to wear?” The playfulness in his smile was negated by the kindness in his eyes. “I mean, both is the logical option, and seems easier since you’re already halfway there?” He cocked his brows and ran his eyes over me, and despite the blush forming I couldn’t help smile back, after the turmoil he seemed so benign, so warm.

“Yeah… I suppose so.” I pulled the shirt closer and nodded my head at the loft. “I left the rest of the, er, ensemble up there, should I go or would you mind…?”

His smile widened, his crooked tooth on full display, and I almost groaned out loud when I felt myself reacting to it. _For fuck's sake, Live. Get a goddam grip!_

“No problem. Just toss your clothes in the dryer, I’ll get what you need.” He started towards the stairs, and I went back in, trying not to think about how it seemed like he bit his lip to stifle a laugh. _Jesus. Reality check much?_ I kept shaking my head in exasperation, this was a low point, even for me. And it’s not like I even wanted to entertain the idea, my heart was still aching, my cheeks weren’t even dry yet. And I was a better person, usually it took a bit more than a pretty face. _It’s a spectacular face though_.

I shuddered and slung the jeans and the shirt in before I shut the door. To my relief my bra was actually dry enough to wear. I set the program, hoping it wouldn’t take too long. _And if it does? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ I put the bra back on and the borrowed shirt followed, the feeling of dismay furthered by seeing how my nipples were still perky through the sleek fabric and I tried to tuck away how it’d felt when I’d put the shirt on the first time. My fingers were stiff as I struggled to button the smooth silk, my face scrunched up in concentration while I was silently berating my stupid ass.

“This it?” I let out a pathetic shriek when his hand poked through the door, sweats extended. “Oh god. I’m sorry. You okay?”

“Yes. I… It’s nothing.” I took the garment, my face burning. “I was just lost in thought. Thank you.”

The hand withdrew, and I heard a chuckle receding into the kitchen. I took a moment to steady myself before I finally managed all the buttons and slipped into the pants. Tightening the strings firmly, I told my body to start listening to my brain. I could hear him totter about, humming. I drew a long breath, hit start on the dryer and gingerly stepped out into the hall.

“You hungry?”

I peeked around the corner, watching him as he opened the fridge and made an assessment.

“No. I’m fine.”

He looked back at me, eyebrows raised.

“You sure? It’s a dire selection, I’ve been away for a week, but I can order in?”

I willed my feet to carry me over to the counter, shaking my head.

“Okay. If you’re sure.” He closed the fridge and extracted a matching pair of fresh mugs from the cabinet. As he poured the coffee his stomach growled. A faint flush crept up his perfect cheeks, and I giggled. _Fuck_. “Or I might just order in anyway. Pizza sound good?”

“Mmhm. Sure.” I hoisted myself up on one of the tall stools set at the counter, realising with a pang I hadn’t even noticed them the first time around. I scanned the room, wondering what else I’d missed, and took a mental inventory as I accepted the steaming mug he pushed in my direction.

It was really an attractive space, the dark floor panels matching the exposed brick of the walls perfectly. The woodwork and doors were in hues of grey and black and there was a handsome sitting area in the corner beneath the stairwell, a massive couch and two leather recliners in front of a huge TV. Bookcases were set around the room, volumes precariously stacked on every shelf and surface. A small table held a collection of framed pictures, one of them face down, probably tipped over when Sebastian was running down the stairs above them. _Damn. Stop it_. A gleaming teak desk was placed under the middle window, set with a stationary pc and printer, assorted office supplies scattered around the edges.

“No milk. Sorry.”

The déjà-vu brought me back, and I took a small sip, welcoming the heat and let it trickle through me.

“Yeah. I know.” I nodded at the mugs he’d set in the sink, and he snorted, shaking his head.

“Ah. Yes. Of course.”

“I feel you should know I usually take it black anyway.” His eyes glittered in response, and he leaned forward, giving me a playful wink. _Goddamit. They’re both lethal._

“Anything else I should know?” He grinned wider, his brows shooting up, perfectly mimicking his brother’s mannerisms, and I rolled my eyes, trying to hide the renewed flush in my face. “Anything _you’d_ like to know?” I cleared my throat, pursing my lips and took a big gulp, calculating the damage if I were to fling the contents in his face.

“No. I’m good. I feel I already know you.” He laughed, his whole frame shaking, and I joined in, finally feeling more relaxed. “You’re an interesting guy.”

“Really? And how long have you known me?” _Uh-oh. Damn._

“What time is it?” His eyes widened a little, and I tried to keep my face neutral, gauging for any judgement, but finding none.

“I’m impressed.”

“With what?”

“My skills.” He grinned, and I flushed again, wracking my brain for a snappy comeback, but settled on a long gulp of coffee instead. “I have to say I’m surprised though.”

“Really? Why?”

“Well, that he did that.”

“Oh? So that’s not a thing? You don’t pretend to be each other? I thought all twins did that?” I cocked a brow at him. “I thought that was the main perk?” He shook his head slowly, pursing his lips.

“Nope. Not since high school. Well, maybe college.” He shrugged. “And even back then it happened rarely.” I stared, not quite believing him.

“So you’ve never…?” He cackled.

“Pretended to be Sebastian Stan?” He drained his mug, his tongue dabbing his lips, evoking far too vivid imagery, and I found myself unable to look away. _Shit_.

Until he caught me, and I hurriedly hid behind my own drink.

“No. Never. Never even occurred to me.” He sent me a sardonic glance. “Unless I’m paid to. Basically worked my way through law school and internships by doing that. Otherwise, never.” He looked at me intently, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a crooked smile. “Hard to believe, I know. But it’s not like I’ve not had the opportunity. You’d be surprised.”

The words hung in the air a little, and I blinked, taking another sip. He looked just like him, only a different version, but I had studied this face too. Too much. _You need to stop. Stop it_. His phone chirped, and I was back, inhaling deeply, cursing the small tremor in my breath. He shook his head a little, erected himself, and I suddenly became aware of how the distance had shrunk as we’d both been leaning in. I swallowed, fighting back the sudden thumping in my chest, straightening my back. _Seriously. Stop it_. He picked up the phone and rolled his eyes when he saw the caller id. He sighed and lay the sarcasm on thick when he answered.

“Hi Seb.” He threw me an exasperated look, and I giggled silently. “Yes. Everything’s going great. We’re having coffee. She’s _awesome_. I can totally see what you see in her.” He grinned widely, clearly enjoying the stuttering at the other end. “No. I told you. She needs time. You behaved like a shit.” The tone of his voice was that of a parent patiently berating a petulant child, and I was shaking with glee when he sent me a small wink. “Yeah. I’ll call you later.” He leaned casually against the counter, nodding distractedly as the faint voice kept going. “Uh-hu. Yes.” He inhaled and blew his cheeks, gnawing his lip, making it redder and plumper, and I was staring again, my goddamn libido rearing its head. Again. _Nono. No! Hell no! GET A FUCKING GRIP!_ I turned abruptly, hiding my face, hoping he hadn’t noticed, or that he’d at least be kind enough not to mention it. “Yeah. I’ll call you. Bye.” He chuckled, and I risked a small glance, returning the laugh. “Well, he’s a mess.”

“Good.”

He narrowed his eyes, trying to read me. “He’s not a bad guy, you know.”

“Really?” I stared down in my cup, watching the last dregs swirl as I rotated it slowly, the pain emerging full force. “Could have fooled me.” I was muttering, but he heard me well enough, bending down, concern written all over him.

“Hey. I’m not excusing what he did. But I get why he did it. Initially at least.” I sighed and hid my face in my hands.

“I know. I get it too. I do.” I dragged my hands down, cupping my chin in one. “But he could have told me. Before. When we… You know.” His eyes were distracting, open and guileless, and I averted my gaze, afraid I might start crying again.

“He really likes you though. He wasn’t lying about that.” He reached out as to grab my hand, but stopped, and let it fall down, his fingertips barely brushing mine. I stared at them, struggling to ignore the currents of warmth that shot through my arm.

“Hey. It’s okay. I know he hurt you. I’d be hurt too.” His voice was so soft, barely a whisper, rendering me unsure what to tackle first, the ache in my heart or the ache between my legs. _Fuck. I can’t deal with this. He’s too like him_. What I decided didn’t matter before suddenly mattered more than anything, I was just not sure who was the original or the copy any more.

“I…” His stomach gave another small roar of dissatisfaction, and my hand flinched, jolting me back to reality. “You mentioned pizza? I could really go for some now.” I arranged my face in something I hoped was both cheerful and neutral, and he pulled back, not quite hiding a slight daze.

“Yes. Pizza. Coming right up.” He pulled up the number, pausing a second before hitting it. “Any preferences? Or aversions?”

“No. I’m fine with whatever.” I held up a finger. “Apart from shellfish. And pineapple. No dessert on dinner.” He grinned and put the phone to his ear.

“That’s too bad, that’s my regular.” The phone connected, and he turned his attention on the respondent. _“Ciao. Si tratta di_ Alex. _Buon pomeriggio. Sì sto bene. Posso avere un vegetariano Margarita, cipolle e peperoni a metà? Per quanto? Eccellente. Grazie. Arrivederci.”_

I almost choked on a gulp of air and tried to pick up my jaw from the floor, my eyes so wide they were almost watering. Romanian I expected, but Italian? Holy shit.

“That’ll be half an hour, they were a bit backed up. Hope you’re okay with vegetarian?” _Of course. Just of course_. He snorted when he noticed my gaping, grimacing in slight embarrassment and a puff of laughter. “See? I told you you didn’t know much about me.”

I just kept staring, unable to hide my astonishment, not knowing quite why. He was right, I didn’t know anything about him.

“Well… Since it’s going to be a while I think I’ll just have a quick shower. Spending 10 hours on planes and airports aren’t really the most refreshing activity.”

“Uh-hu. Yeah. Sure. Erm… Absolutely.” I was babbling, and he knew, but was ever considerate, well, apart from constantly upping the levels of perfection. “Yeah. You go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

He drew a sharp breath and nodded curtly. “Great. Have some more coffee, I don’t think it’s gone stale.” He started towards the stairs, almost hesitant, reconsidered, and soon he was bouncing up, two steps at a time, and my heart fell again.

 _You need to leave. Now. Naked if need be._ The emotional turmoil was taking its toll, and I was feeling frayed and worn. So why was I so reluctant to leave? _Because you like him. A lot. Too much._ I stopped the thought, got up and filled the mug to the brim.

“Er… Live?”

“Yeah?” I looked up, seeing him peering over the railing.

“Not to be rude, but what the fuck happened up here?” He was clearly suppressing a laugh, his arms were crossed tightly to keep his shoulders from shaking. I grinned sheepishly, hoping the fire on my face wasn’t too visible from the distance. “Never mind.” He bent down and held up a small box. _Shit_. “I found the culprit.” He wriggled his brows, left me with a wolfish grin, disappeared from view, and I heard the bathroom door open and close, the water running.

 _Goddamit_. I moaned loudly, again wishing for the liberating beep from the dryer, glanced at the clock on the stove and realised it was still at least 45 minutes left. _45 minutes of absolute torture_. The burning sensation flared up again, dividing itself generously between my upper and lower body. _Jesus fucking christ. You need help._

I brought my mug, cradling it while I walked slowly through the space, taking a mini-tour. I stopped at each case, rifling through the books. There was the obvious collection of law books, a number of travel guides, and a lot of fiction—an eclectic mix of classics and modern—much more than I expected. I did a double take as I scanned a shelf beside his desk, and my mouth fell open. A neat stack with different slim and thick volumes, all worn and well used. Cicero’s _The Republic_ , Virgil’s _The Aeneid_ and _Collected Works_ , Homer’s _The Iliad_ … and there, at the bottom, worn to the point of the cover dissolving, John Milton’s _Paradise Lost_.

The sound of the shower being turned off brought me back, I didn’t know how long I’d stood there, holding my breath, trying to process. Of course he could have books on classical rhetoric and _Paradise Lost_ is a classic in itself. It wasn’t like the two had to go together just because they lay together. _It doesn’t mean anything._

The door upstairs opened, and I hurried back to the kitchen, for some reason not wanting to reveal my snooping. I sat down and busied myself with the lukewarm coffee when he descended, running his hand through his wet hair, trying to straighten the array of soft curls.

He was wearing a simple white tee instead of a dress shirt and low-slung worn blue jeans, hanging on within an inch of its life. He was slimmer, but still perfectly proportioned, and I couldn’t suppress a small squirm, causing him to stop, hand still in his hair, crinkling eyes accompanied by an apprehensive smile. He was stunning, the small but significant differences making him if possible even more attractive, and I wanted to kick something. _Jesus Christ. You fucked his brother. Less than an hour ago. YOU FUCKED HIS FUCKING BROTHER!_

“I’m sorry.”

My jaw clamped shut, I’d not even realised it was hanging open, and I tried for a discreet swallow, hoping my head wasn’t engulfed in actual flames. “What for?”

“Well… I’d never pretend to be him, but I know… Well. We look alike. You’re not the first woman who’s looked at me like that.” He sounded almost apologetic, and I didn’t know what to say, trying to imagine what it must be like to have to compete with that. Constantly.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to…” I drew a long breath, consciously keeping my eyes on his face as he grabbed his mug and went over to the coffeemaker, emptying the pot, still an air of shyness about him. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, I’m not too torn up about it.”

“No?”

“It’s not entirely without advantages.” He kept my gaze over the mug as he sipped it, amusement in his eyes. “Turns out a lot of people don’t care when I correct them.”

I just stared, not quite believing he’d actually go there, but of course he did. “Fuck you.” I wasn’t prepared for my reaction, the prickle behind my eyes caught me by surprise. If it was the emotional strain, the feeling of betrayal, the anger or the heartbreak, I couldn’t say, but I slid off the stool and started towards the hall without thinking. “That’s not funny.”

“Oh c’mon. That’s a little funny.”

I glared at him, feeling my eyes brimming. I knew I was overreacting, but I was unable to stop myself. “Fuck you both, you and your brother. That’s _not funny._ ”

His face fell, and I heard the mug clink as he set it down before he grabbed my shoulder gently, halting me before turning me towards him.

“Hey. Whoa. Come on.”

I inhaled deeply, trying to keep the anger alive, but discovered that the hurt stung more. He brushed some strands of hair from my cheek before he cupped my chin, locking his eyes in mine.

“Hey. I didn’t mean… It was a bad joke.” His thumb traced my jaw, setting my skin on fire. _Now would be a really good time to haul ass and get out of here._ “I’m sorry.” His lips were barely moving, his breath washed over me, sending chills down my spine, and I was rooted to the spot. “Live.” His irises were receding, the pupils expanding, and my brain shut down, not wanting to battle against the heat in my midriff any longer. _Fuck it._

“I’m n—”

The buzz of the doorbell made us both flinch, and I managed a weak smile as he sighed and shook his head.

“Damn.” The word was barely audible, but it was there, and I wondered briefly what a pacemaker went for these days. _Damn. Working yourself to an early grave here_. He released me, walked over and picked up, nodded distractedly as he gave the doorman the okay. “Pizza is here. Still hungry?”

_Well, that depends what for. Oh, shut up. Get a hold of yourself. No. I need to go. No. I’m sure my clothes are dry enough. No. I can’t stay here any longer, I can’t be fucking two brothers within hours of each other. No. I can’t handle this. Just say the words, Live. Any one will do. Any one. Use your voice._

“Yeah. Sounds perfect. Just what I want.” His eyes shone with excitement, and he went over to the wine cabinet by the fridge, opened it with a bit of a flourish, gesturing to the assorted contents.

“Red or white?” I ignored the influx of wildlife in my stomach, leaned in on the counter, kept his eyes firmly locked before I replied, my voice an octave lower than usual.

“I don’t know. What do you recommend?”


	3. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?

_Aleksei and Sebastian Stan ca 2009. Photo:[NS.](http://lowkeysebastianstan.tumblr.com/)_

He met my eyes, a mixture of amusement and mischief reflecting back at me, picked out a bottle, held it up and turned it slowly so I could see the label. Cascina Fontana Barbera d'Alba. Italian. Of course. _Yeah, that’s just great. This will end well_. I held his gaze, his mood contagious, and shut down any voice of reason.

“Yeah. Uh-hu.” He grinned, seeing straight through my lack of finesse, grabbed a couple of glasses out of the cupboard and turned towards the couch, gesturing for me to follow. Ignoring the sudden case of dry mouth, I managed to keep my legs from shaking too much, made my way over to the couch and settled down in the furthermost corner.

I watched him as he busied himself with placing coasters and glasses, shooting small glances in my direction, a smirk tugging as he worked. He stopped, hovered the bottle over my glass, and quirked an eyebrow, waiting for my confirmation before pouring. Leaving my glass a bit fuller than custom decrees, he twirled the bottle with flair and turned to his own glass, leaving only half an inch to the brim. He dropped the bottle on the table with a clink and sat down in the opposite corner, one leg folded under him. He lifted his glass in a small toast, barely waiting for my response before emptying half in a long draught.

I giggled, took a dignified sip and eyed him with some curiosity. “Thirsty?”

He let out a deep chuckle, smacked his lips and drained the rest, all the while keeping his eyes in mine. “A little bit, yeah.”

His whole demeanour left my insides reeling, a wave of heat spreading, leaving me squirming and flushed. _Jesus fucking christ. What the absolute fuck is up with these guys?_ I suddenly felt an acute need to hydrate and took a solid chug, my mind racing for some way to break the tension without actually breaking the tension.

“I, uh, er, look… Alex, I…” The sharp rap on the door made me jump a little, and by the look of it he was a bit startled too.

“Fuck.” He sighed the word, turned away and got up, making a small adjustment to the front of his jeans as he went. “The pizzaman. Irony upon irony.” He grinned and crooked a brow. “Unless you want me to invite him in?”

I poked my tongue at him, glaring a little, and watched him saunter over to the door, shaking in silent laughter. _Fucking hell_. I let out a long breath and looked down at my hands, the glass wobbled slightly in my sweaty grip. I got up, my knees trembling and turned towards the window, taking in the view, the smooth surface of the Hudson glittering in the low afternoon sun.

My eyes flickered towards the only corner of the room I didn’t have time to explore when he was upstairs, and I busied myself looking at the assorted photographs in a haphazard collection of frames. There were quite a few with both of them, some candids, but mostly posed, and I tried to discern who was who in each. It was surprisingly difficult, and I realised with a pang that the only reason they weren’t completely identical at this point was that they weren’t trying to be. I still thought Alex’ eyes were a bit lighter, but they were also that trademark ice blue, and considering they had the same habit of changing hue depending on the lighting it proved impossible to be sure. _Fuck me, they’re too pretty_. For some reason it looked less cluttered than from afar, and I saw the fallen one from before. I regretted I’d not taken a peek when I had the chance, it seemed rude to do that when he was right there. I refocused on the picture in question and reached out and stroked one of them, younger and smiling, casually sat on the steps of something that looked like the Pantheon. _Rome. Of course._

I became dimly aware that he’d finished the transaction, shut the door and flicked the lock before moving over to the kitchen island, finding plates and cutlery, humming to himself again. _He hums in the kitchen_. Suddenly I was annoyed with myself for not paying attention and finding out if he sang in the shower too. _Oh my god, woman. Get real_. I drained my glass and sank back in my seat, tucking my legs under me.

“Need any help?” I kept my tone light, proud that my voice carried at all and relieved to see his frame a tad more relaxed too.

“No, it’s fine.” He stacked everything on top of the pizza box and made his way over, balancing it on one hand, his glass still occupying the other. “I actually spent a summer as a waiter in Venice.”

He smiled, an easy and cheerful expression on his face, a sharp contrast from the tension only minutes before. I didn’t know if I was more relieved or disappointed, the strain was still overwhelming, and I was wishing it away, but to my horror I felt weirdly cheated. _Jesus fuck on a stick. You need to chill._

“Venice, huh.” I set out the plates and refilled our glasses, watching him fold out the box, and I sniffed appreciatively. “Wow. It smells good.”

He smiled knowingly and extracted a generous piece, sliding it over to me. “Just wait until you taste it.”

I took a small bite, savoured the richness, grinning back at him, nodding.

“Good, yes?” He sat back, holding his plate, and began to eat, closing his eyes in delight. “Damn. I swear it’s taking me right back.

“When were you there?”

“I took a year off after my first bachelor, I wanted to be sure I was on the right track.”

I raised my eyebrows, shaking my head. Of course he had two. “Let me guess. Literature? Classical literature?” He stared at me, and I nodded towards his desk, indicating the shelf I’d been perusing. “Yeah. I was snooping.”

“Of course. As you should.” He watched me thoughtfully, chewing slowly. “Find anything interesting?” His eyes darted over to the table with the photographs, causing a flash of heat to creep up my face.

“Well, yes.” I felt absurdly guilty for some reason, despite knowing I hadn’t even touched upon anything personal in nature, just the fact that he’d been watching me looking at the photos. “But I wasn’t trying to pry.”

“Why not? I would.” He sent me a small wink, and for a wild moment I imagined him rooting through my bag until I remembered he was the only one who had left the room at any time. “What?”

"No, no. Nothing.” I refolded my face into a neutral expression and concentrated on my food, finishing my piece. “So that’s where you learned Italian?” My pathetic attempt at changing the subject wasn’t lost on him, but he seemed to decide to relent with the incessant teasing, again rendering me torn between disappointment and relief.

“It’s okay. I’m just kidding.” He laughed and reached for another piece, offering me one, and I held out my plate even though I was unsure if I could actually manage to eat more. “But no, actually. I started learning Italian before that. I became more fluent while I was there though.”

“And you were both there?” I pointed to the Pantheon photo, and he lit up, clearly appreciative.

“Er, mmm, yeah. Seb was only there for the summer, he had to get back to film his first movie.” He kept my gaze, but I held my own, trying my damnedest not to burst out the name of said movie or the year it was made. The shadow of a smile tugged at his lips, but he graciously didn’t ask. “I’d always wanted to go, and when I got the chance I jumped at it. Have you been?”

“Yes. I love it. The cuisine, the history, the art, the literature, the language… What was your draw?” I knew I was angling the conversation, but hoped he wouldn’t notice. My whole body was still a knot of tension, the sheer proximity was more than enough to keep my pulse up and my midriff churning. The wine was helping, but seeing as fewer inhibitions weren’t necessarily the best course of action, I was reluctant to indulge. Apparently he was not, he took a healthy swig before he answered, and I was struck by the ambiguity. Sure, he was a fucking tease, but I became increasingly aware that he wasn’t more in control of the situation than I was.

He met my eyes again, sending a renewed wave of heat downwards and straightened in his seat, giving a little squirm of his own. Without thinking my eyes drifted down to dwell on the bulge in his jeans, easily visible and clearly growing. I swallowed hard when I realised that he was both noticing and grinning widely. _Fuck_. My cheeks burned under his glittering stare, and I gauged the distance to the window, wondering if the fall would actually kill me. _Shit. Shit. SHIT._

“Epic verse. I read the _Iliad_ and _Aeneid_ in junior high, and I became obsessed with the prose. Of course ancient Greek and Latin were a little out of my league, so I started looking for other works, wanting to read anything in the original language. I loved Tolkien of course, and I even started studying Finnish to try reading _Kalevala_. I attempted _Völuspá_ , but old Norse proved too much. I’ve read them of course, but like the _Iliad_ and _Aeneid_ I had to settle for the translations. I finally found _Paradise Lost_. I must have read it 20 times. I found it more relatable too since it’s based on Christian mythology. Not that I’m religious, but it’s still something I knew more. Dante followed, but nothing came close to Milton. I was a bit of a geek.”

My jaw slacked a bit, and I hoped it didn’t look as asinine as it felt. The smirk didn’t leave his mouth through the whole tirade, and I couldn’t fathom how his voice kept so steady when he looked like he wanted to jump me. I was unable to hide the heavy swallow, but cleared my throat even so, not wanting to give up a subject I felt confident about and had the potential of leading to safer ground.

“Wow. Suddenly I feel so undereducated for someone writing their thesis on Paradise Lost.” After the initial flicker of shock, his face brightened, and the brilliance of his teeth almost made me squint, his expression akin to a kid in a candy store. I let out a small giggle.

“You’re joking? Why the fuck didn’t you say something? You saw the books?” Gone was the lazy seductive pose, he leaned forward, animation and joy apparent. 

“Well, to be fair, I had already told you. You took it with polite interest.” I shrugged, feigning indifference, not really wanting to bring Sebastian into it, but at the same time I didn’t want to linger on the negativity towards him, if nothing else his betrayal had brought me here. I ignored the massive pang in my chest and hoped he’d do the same. “Well, that’s not entirely true. You were impressed.”

A brief glint of wariness flashed in his eyes, he shook his head, clearly wanting to show some brotherly loyalty. _Damn. That’s unfortunate. Shush. This is so much better._ Sensing my body not quite willing to give up the fight, I forced my brain to take charge, to at least temporarily silence the raging lust.

“Okay. Fair enough. And true. Even if he downplayed a little.” He glanced down at his hands for a second, his hair falling forward, making me ache to reach out and touch it. So much for control and safe subjects. _Seriously, what the fuck._ “But he was right to stay out of something he knew he couldn’t do justice. I need to thank him for that.” He shot me a shy smile, and the moment was gone. “So tell me everything. What’s your angle? Your inspirations? Are you including other works?”

Sending him a grateful smile, I started in on my process, thoroughly enjoying his rapt attention. When I began on the classical influences he became even more animated, asking questions, contributing his thoughts and opinions, and suddenly I found myself in the middle of a scholarly discussion outside of the dreary framework of academia and deadlines. We challenged each other in reciting choice passages from memory, continuously upping the stakes. It was the first time I could remember connecting with someone over anything but shared experience or trivia, and the warmth that appeared was suddenly not physical in nature. Well, almost not. Mostly not. 50/50. Fine. 70/30. But it was still an improvement, and I revelled in it. I didn’t notice the time until I heard the dryer beeping, and shooting each other a short glance we wordlessly agreed to ignore it.

It was full dark outside when we moved on to why he’d given up literature for law, and I was surprised to learn that he’d not only wanted to study it, but had even tried his hand at actually writing epic poetry. He’d given up when it had become increasingly obvious, to him at least, that the artistic talent was placed elsewhere in the family, and that he felt it’d be more rewarding to work with people less privileged than himself. He was currently working for the state attorney, a legal adviser in a small task force specialised towards hate crimes, but he had a potential partnership with a small firm dealing mainly in environmental issues and civil rights. The perfection was aggravating, but it kept my mind pretty focused on the non-sexual side of things, so I tried to not let it bother me. Much. The pure admiration must have been written on my face though, he seemed a little abashed, but he was kind enough not to mention it. I remembered his comment on constantly having to compete with the attention and worship Sebastian was subjected to, and with a sting I realised this might be as new to him as it was to me. And while I felt it a little unfair that he’d given up pursuing his talent and dreams because of it, it seemed he was happy in his choices.

The conversation flowed naturally and effortlessly, leaving me continuingly unaware of the hours passing. The only break came when he got up for a fresh bottle of wine, and I took the opportunity to go upstairs to the bathroom, relieving myself, spending a good five minutes staring into the mirror, trying to talk some sense into my head. I didn’t listen, so I just drank some water and splashed some on my face, before deciding on a quick shower, hoping cool water would do the trick. It didn’t. Not at all. I dried off and got dressed, and briefly lamented the fact that my makeup was downstairs in my bag, conscious of how my insufficient attempts at refreshment had done nothing to abate my flushed and breathless appearance. Of course, it was just as well—had I returned all done up he’d have been even more clued in to my state of mind.

I stopped on my way back, forcing myself to look at the bed, and noticed he’d remade it and cleared the mess we’d left. For a minute I stood there, my conscience split between guilt and sadness. I felt the tears coming and turned abruptly before they gathered force. I didn’t want to dwell on it, not when I was having a good time despite it all, and especially not when I no longer felt the anger, only the ache. _Fuck_. I couldn’t tell whether I wished Alex was Sebastian or Sebastian was Alex, I only knew I didn’t want to be without either experience. But Sebastian wasn’t here, Alex was, and it was his smile that met me when I finally made my way back down, neither of us commenting on the time I’d been away.

He’d refilled my glass in my absence, and I took it gratefully while he excused himself and went upstairs himself. He returned within a few minutes and went straight on subject, initiating further discussion by broaching the subject of Virgil vs Homer. I dived in, became lost in the exchange, and after that was exhausted we seamlessly moved on to other subjects. I told him about my home and family, a bit embarrassed at his keen interest, and then we started in on general literature, music and even film. It just clicked, it flowed, and I relaxed into the situation with far more ease than I’d imagined.

It turned out Downey wasn’t really his favourite—a favourite actor, sure, but not character. He swore me to secrecy as to the real one, and my eyes almost got stuck in my head they rolled so far back. I didn’t tell him mine, I suspected I didn’t have to, especially when he got into a lengthy speech about the excellence of Tony and Sam, clearly trying to bait me into admittance. Of course, knowing he knew all these people made it even more entertaining, and I couldn’t resist trying to garner a little inside information, but to my disappointment it became clear that Marvel had everyone under the strictest confidentiality contracts—even the grunts like body doubles. _Damn_.

Time ticked on, and neither of us mentioned breaking up the party. It was peaceful. It was nice. It was unthreatening. It was stress-free. I was pleasantly drunk. Apart from the dull humming in my core I almost forgot I wanted him to bend me over the nearest surface and fuck my brains out. I even entertained the idea that we could be friends. Not seriously of course, I’m a fairly realistic person, but the thought was still somewhat attractive. Of course it didn’t last.

There was a natural lull in the conversation, and I was swirling the dregs of my wine, watching him munch the last piece of pizza—long cold, but still tasty. I struggled not to dwell too much on how his lips moved or the glimpses of tongue or the length and sensuality of his fingers or the small sliver of skin where his tee had ridden up. I knew I should be thankful that the evening had progressed in this direction instead of the alternative, and in a way I was. It was incredible to get to know him, I almost forgot about where I would have been had he not come home earlier. _Get him out of your head. It was just sex. He’s not worth it. It fucking was though_. I finished my wine with a small sigh, started for the bottle just as he reached for it, and my fingers brushed the back of his hand. I flinched back as if shocked, and he froze, his breath held for a long moment. He got up slowly, not looking in my direction while he waggled the bottle, inhaling deeply when he saw it was nearly empty, letting out what sounded like “damn” on the exhale.

He sat up, his movements still far too slow, and turned to me, taking in what must have been a pathetic sight, I could feel the deep blush all the way to my hair. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, the air seemed to have left the room, the tension momentarily rendering me completely speechless and powerless to react. His tongue darted out, adding some delicious shine to his lips before he bit the bottom one, a crooked smile forming while it gradually popped out, swelling darkly as the blood returned. _I can’t do this._

“Here.” He extended the bottle, and in a trance I held out my glass. “Ladies first.” He didn’t move his eyes, relying only on the small clink as the neck met the brim, and upended the content, leaving my glass half full.

“Thanks.” I lifted the glass, drank half, and waited until he’d disposed of the bottle before handing it to him. He glanced at it, and in an agonisingly slow motion closed his hand around mine and pulled me in while he erected himself, meeting me halfway. He didn’t stop until I was bracing myself against his shoulder, unable to contain a small whimper. Twisting his hand, he found the table, set down the glass carefully and entwined our fingers. He lead me back, embracing me softly, catching my arm briefly behind me before letting go to clasp my hip.

“Live.” His voice was low, barely a whisper, and it radiated straight down my center. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure it showed, redirecting every ounce of blood, I felt the wetness soaking through my underwear, spreading down my thighs. _This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I don’t fucking want this. Oh god, I want this so bad_. My head swam, my vision blurring, from the alcohol or lack of air I couldn’t tell. I tried to exhale but my lungs seemed to have lost all function. All I could focus on was on his blown pupils, his lips hovering an inch away, his breath, hot and rapid on my face, his hair brushing my thumb where my hand was massaging his shoulder and neck. My back arched in response to the throbbing, I flinched and our mouths were only half an inch apart. His hand moved further up my waist, stroking my ribs, closing in on my breast, his fingers fastened their grip and I let out a barely audible moan. “Fuck.” His other hand reached up, his index finger ghosting my jawline, his palm cupping my chin, and his thumb tracing my lower lip. “Beautiful. Just beautiful.”

My throat hitched, and I could finally breathe, the words almost exploding in my head. His eyes widened in a silent question, and I closed my eyes, not even wanting to address it, but I knew I had to. With a heavy sigh I sank back, his hands vanishing instantly, and I wanted to scream in frustration. I let my own hand linger before I reluctantly let go, and I could see I no longer had to tell him the problem.

“Damn.”

“Yeah. Damn.” I reached out for my glass, downing the rest in one swallow, thankful that I at least could get drunker. “I’m sorry. I… I really wish I—”

“No. It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I really shouldn’t have—” He shook his head and smiled, but the hint of sadness was too much. “I really don’t know what I was thinking, I mean y—”

“No. This is all on me. Truly. I can’t-—Alex.” My voice was matching his, and more so, and the absurdity of the situation became ridiculous. _Fuck this shit_. I grabbed the bottle but set it down with a heavy thud on the floor. _Yeah. Fuck this shit_. With a determined grunt I shoved myself off the couch and strode over to the wine cabinet, opened it and immediately changed my mind. It wouldn’t do. “Where’s the booze?” He barked out a laugh and pointed to the island, indicating the cabinet. “Excellent.” I ducked down, assessed the selection, and decided on a Martell XO. I held it up, waited for his okay before I went in search for suitable glasses.

“Where’s your good crystal?”

“Er… I don’t really have—” I shook my head, indicating the graveness of the offence.

“Never mind. I’ll make do.” I grabbed a couple of tumblers from among his everyday collection and made my way back, muttering under my breath about the scandalous lack of culture among Americans in general. He was leaning on the armrest, his chin resting on top of his crossed arms, watching me intently, his expression a mixture of amusement and curiosity. I gave him a brilliant smile, relieved that it looked like the evening could be salvaged after all. “Here.” I handed him the bottle, setting the glasses in front of him before I skirted the table and sank down in my seat.

“And this will help, how?” He deftly uncorked it, filled mine to the brim, clearly reading my mind. I took it, gave it a cursory sniff, nodded slowly in mock approval and took a hefty swig, shuddering a little as it went down.

“Well, it’ll either make me forget, make me not give a flying fuck, or ideally, both.” I grinned as I watched him fill his own glass before I extended my arm, and he clinked his glass to mine before he copied me.

“And that’s a good thing?” He eyed me carefully, twirling his glass on the tips of long, sensual fingers, and I groaned internally, cursing his whole existence. I shrugged and took another sip, watching him over the brim. “You don’t think that might be something you might regret?” He muttered something else under his breath, and I paused, drained the rest of the drink and shifted in my seat, folding my legs, leaning forward, extending my arm, almost touching him. He followed my every move warily, and I almost laughed.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it. That’s the point.” I pushed back, looking him dead in the eye. “Do you?” He bit his lip thoughtfully, gnawing slightly, making it redder and plumper for his tongue to drag over, leaving it glistening and fucking lethal. I wondered briefly if they actually stood in front of the mirror, practising, finding out the exact amount of licking and pressure required to achieve the effect. I couldn’t tell whether he was teasing or really oblivious, which made it even more obnoxious, and I fought to keep my expression neutral while I waited. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth, stopped, inhaled sharply, and tried again.

“I don’t know.” He reached out and made contact with my outstretched hand. His fingertips barely fluttered over mine before he gently took them and turned my hand over, his thumb circling my palm lazily. I couldn’t suppress a shiver, and he studiously avoided my gaze, eyes locked on our hands. “I really don’t know.” The last words were a barely audible sigh, but the wistfulness didn’t really have the deterring effect it should’ve had. “Maybe if…” I caught the short glance, reading what I needed in it, but I still had to ask.

“Yes?” He clearly heard me, even if it came out a whisper. He continued circling my palm, the connection comforting somehow, calming but still keeping me on edge. “Alex…” With a soft groan he let go of my hand and sank back, finally meeting my eyes.

“You know what. If I had met you. If you had met _me_.” He grabbed the bottle, not bothering with the glass. I closed my fist, my palm still burning from his touch, held out my other hand for the bottle, waiting for him to finish. I knew I was looking at a solid hangover, but it was early still, well early-ish, and I could switch to water any time. At least that’s what I told myself when I started drinking, almost gagging before I stopped.

“I should leave. My clothes are dry, there’s no reason for me to stay here any longer.” I sent the cognac and the ball back to him, and he took both with some trepidation.

“That’s true.” He smiled. “On the other hand I don’t really feel comfortable sending you out alone, being drunk and all.” He took another swig and grimaced. “Gods, why does it taste worse from the bottle.” He shuddered slightly, but took one last draught before he set it on the table. “Are you planning on seeing him again?” I didn’t know why I was surprised, it was more the way he blurted out the words than the actual meaning of them, but it must have shown on my face. He gave me a few seconds, and when all I could do was gape uselessly he continued. “I understand if you are. And I know he wants to. As do you. And it’s not because he feels bad, he really, really likes you.” He snorted darkly, and I was still speechless. “It seems you make an impression. I wonder if it goes for all men or only the ones in this family.” There was a bitter edge that was hard to ignore, and I felt my heart sink. _What am I doing? What the fuck am I doing?_

“Alex, I…” My voice was thick, I felt the tears building, and his expression abruptly changed.

“Oh, god. No. I didn’t mean it like that. Oh, god. Fuck.” He scrambled closer, made out to grab me, but stopped short and let his arms fall down. “Hey. I’m sorry. I… It was a compliment.” I gave him a small smile, but it was too late to stop the tears from falling. He stared at me, his eyes gentle, and suddenly his hands were cradling my cheeks, his thumbs wiping the tears away. My breath hitched, his expression changed, and leaning in he brushed his lips to mine.

For a moment everything stopped, I was frozen, all I could focus on was the softness and the heat, his breath mingling with mine, the taste of cognac almost disguising the faint hint of oregano and basil. He pulled back, boring his blown pupils into mine, and the dam broke.

His fingers curled into my hair, my hands grabbed at his shirt, my lips pressing desperately into his, our tongues warring for dominance. His chest rumbled with a low groan, and I responded in kind, whimpering into his mouth, reached up and finally threaded my fingers through his hair, pulling him in. He shifted his grip, his hands firmly clamping my hips, and twisted around, dragging me with him. My leg hitched up on its own accord, and I sank down, straddling him. He let out an inhuman growl, and his hips snapped upwards, grinding my clit on his growing erection. I was on fire, ironic considering I was soaked enough to fleetingly wonder if I was staining his jeans. I rubbed hard against him, the throbbing resonating back as I kept the pressure up, moaning loudly when I realised it wouldn’t take much to bring me over the edge.

He felt achingly familiar and completely different at the same time, and while I hated my stupid brain for making the instinctive comparisons, I couldn’t stop the reassuring feeling that I truly wanted him and not just because he was reminiscent of his brother. My overwrought inebriated mind came through, effectively driving away all doubts by painting vivid images of his cock penetrating me as his demanding and hungry tongue plunged deeper, making the way his firm, but yielding lips moulded to mine, envisioning them around my clit, thinking of his nose pressing into the inside of my thighs instead of my cheek, inhaling and tickling with small jets of air— _I’m turned on by the man’s need for oxygen, I’ve officially hit bottom_ —imagining the raw chafe of his day-old stubble elsewhere than my chin. I felt his cock jerk and twitch, his hands moved down, his fingers dug into my ass, pressed me down, ground me harder against him, rotating me slowly, and I could feel myself starting to clench. _I’m a fucking 14 year old boy_. I couldn’t hide the shiver running down my spine, nor the way my chest was heaving for air, causing him to finally relent and break free, leaving us gasping in unison, my forehead leaning into his.

I opened my eyes, panting wildly, and found him watching me, a calculating look in his eyes. I sank back, unable to look away as he dragged his tongue slowly around the inside of his parted lips, his gaze travelling down to where our bodies connected, swallowing hard at the sight of my arousal leaking through the sleek fabric of his sweats. Huh, I really hadn’t imagined the staining.

“Fucking hell.” My hips still caught in a vice grip, his own continued to writhe underneath, and I couldn’t resist pushing back, the friction too delicious to ignore. I tried to speak, I tried to form enough coherent thought to regain some control, but I conceded to the lost cause when he relinquished his grip with one hand, traced the skin above my pants, carefully slipping his fingertips inside the elastic. My pelvis thrust upwards as he twisted his hand and slid it down, holding his breath when he reached my slick folds, spreading them apart, his middle finger finding my clit. My head flew back, my eyes closed, my mouth opened, my breath ragged and shallow, blood roaring in my ears as he circled and stroked, applying the lightest pressure, and the orgasm hit.

My hands fisted in his hair, my nails dug into his skull as my back arched, my pussy thrusting into his hand. He plunged two long fingers in to the knuckle, hooking at my g-spot, my walls convulsing around them, his thumb massaging my clit, and I was chasing another orgasm. His hand reached around at my back, grabbing my ass, pulling me closer. I sank heavily onto his dick, rock hard beneath me, and he let out a heavy breathless moan. He dragged his lips from my clavicle to my ear, his tongue dabbing and licking, sending shivers down my spine. Burying his face in my hair, he sent warm bursts of air down my neck, the entirety of my skin breaking out in goosebumps. Accompanied by another deep primal growl that resonated straight down to my pulsing core, I almost blacked out as every muscle in my body tensed. My legs buckled, my thighs shook and I fell forward, slumped against his shoulder, my eyes almost watering from the relief.

“Jesus. Jesus fucking christ.” The whisper was barely audible through his gritted teeth, and his hand stilled, carefully exchanging his thumb with his palm, clamping gently, slowly fluttering his fingers, keeping up the currents of pleasure as I came down. My ability to speak was rendered totally worthless even as the roar in my head subsided, my heartbeat refusing to return to normal as I became conscious of his still thumping violently, reverberating in my chest, his pelvis still rubbing in desperate jagged movements. Trembling, I erected myself and finally met his eyes, endless black pools of lust locked mine as he started to retract his hand. I whimpered as he slipped out, spreading my folds, exposing my oversensitive clit, a last slow circle and gentle prod eliciting a sharp gasp. He dragged his slick fingers over my mound, up my stomach, leaving a wet trail before he reached up, cupped my chin, worrying down my lip, smearing it with my own arousal. He licked his fingers with a hum before he moved his hand behind my neck, carded my hair, pulled me in and kissed me, arching his back, keeping his dick firmly trapped between us. Releasing my mouth he tugged my head sideways, inhaled deeply the length of my jaw and began pressing open-mouthed kisses down along my jugular, while his tongue flickered out, coating my skin with wet spots, making me shiver at the chill they left.

“God. You’re incredible.” He sighed raggedly and rested his head on my shoulder, my arms embracing him, muffling his voice. “Where the fuck have you been hiding all my life?” A wave of warmth seeped through my whole body at his words, and my mind raced as I racked my brain for a sufficient response.

“Alex, I—” The sound hardly carried, making it almost reverent, so I cleared my throat and tried again. I’ve never had any trouble expressing my thoughts or opinions, but I’d never been so overwhelmed by conflict either. I was acutely aware of him underneath me, my pussy still pulsating and aching for more, and I didn’t want to spoil the mood by making overwrought declarations I might come to regret. I was also very conscious of my recent experience—dimmed, but not forgotten. _Goddammit. Get your fucking head in the game. Shit. Don’t think about him fucking you. God, I wish he’d just fuck me. What’s he waiting for?_ I squirmed, forcing a small moan out of him and the hand behind my back moved under my shirt, kneading the swell of my ass, inching me closer.

“Well, I was born in Norway into a loving home, enjoying a happy childhood with lots of cats. I was very smart, and I got excellent grades, allowing me to choose what I wanted, and…” He shook in silent laughter, making me squirm even harder, and I whimpered in exasperation. “Oh god. You can’t seriously expect me to make any sense while you keep doing that. For fucking fuck’s sake, what do you want from me? What do you want?”

With a hard jerk he stopped moving, freezing in position, relentlessly keeping up the pressure and slowly lifted his head. The ridiculousness of the blush under the intensity of his stare wasn’t lost on me, and he smiled, tipping his head upwards, his breath washing over my face, his voice husky and rough.

“I want to see you spread out on my bed, I want to watch you when I crawl up. I want to smell the skin on the inside of your thighs. I want to watch you watch me when I sink my face into your dripping cunt. I want to lick and suck until you scream, I want to drown in your cum.” He ghosted a thumb over my nipple, grinning into my mouth when he felt the response through the shirt, dragged his tongue between my parted lips and lowered his voice to a seductive murmur. “And while you’re still screaming, I want to hook your knees in my elbows and thrust into you torturously slow, your heels digging into my ass. I want to feel how tight and wet you are throbbing around my massive cock, I want to bury myself in you before I pound you into oblivion. I want to kiss you softly, I want my tongue in your mouth, I want you gasping and writhing under me. I want your nails on my back until I bleed. I want you unable to think about anyone other than me, unable to breathe. I want you to scream my name. I want to fuck you senseless, and I want you to thank me for it when you wake up sore and aching, and I want you to beg me to do it again. And I will. I want to worship you.” He grazed my bottom lip with his teeth, nipping delicately, dabbed my slack, swollen mouth with slick lips, his relentless stare never leaving mine. “You game?”

My mind blanked, I sucked furiously to force some moisture back into my parched throat, a deafening roar filled my head, and my lungs and heart went into hyperdrive. I was dizzy, faintness glazing my vision, shock and disbelief battling with reason, I was completely taken aback by the transformation. He clenched his thighs, ground hard against me once, his cock jerked and pushed through his jeans, his cockiness slightly marred by a small hitch of air. A throaty laugh rumbled at my stunned expression, my bright red face and the involuntary sounds I made. My whole core was burning, a pool of wetness spread, a wicked grin playing when he felt it coating my thighs and soaking through three layers of clothing, and I’d never been so turned on in my life.


	4. Well, that de-escalated quickly.

_Alex and Seb attend Esquire Style Mavericks of the Year 2016 Photo:[NN](http://lowkeysebastianstan.tumblr.com/)._

He kept up the relentless stare, I could see nothing else, and I couldn't tear away. My brain was a buzz of white noise, my ears were still ringing from his words. He reached up and tucked some hair behind my ear, feigning indifference, cocked his head a little, watching me intently, a small smile playing. My whole midriff was on fire, the ache damn near unbearable, and I finally managed a small swallow as he sucked my bottom lip, grazing it with his teeth, rotating his hips half a turn. I gasped and fell forward, bracing myself on his chest.

"Yes. Hell yes. God yes." My voice was thick and breathless, my hands fumbled their way down, bunching up his tee, stroking up his defined abdomen and hard chest, my nails grazing their way down, popping the top button on his jeans. His eyes shot down, widening a little before he reached up and fisted my hair, pulling me down and crashing his lips to mine, kissing me with a new urgency, his tongue delving deeper, his groan more desperate.

His head fell back as I palmed him lightly through his jeans, getting some friction from the buttons before I popped one more. A small hitch of breath and I could feel him freeze for a second. The shock gave way to confidence as I watched him starting to unravel beneath me, his lids heavy, his jaw slackening, and it was my turn to smile.

"Shit." His fingers dug into my ass, his thumbs buried in the crook of my thighs as he rolled me towards him, tipping me and exerting more pressure. I leaned in and kissed him, covering his moans as I teased the band of his boxers, pulling them down an inch. I hit bare hot skin, slick with a mixture of my arousal and drops of precum, and circled the head of his cock with the lightest touch His chest rumbled as he groaned into my mouth. "Fucking hell." He tilted his head back and caught my eyes, panting heavily. "If you want to make it upstairs you might want to re-evaluate your choices." I smirked back, pressing my lips to his chin, sliding my fingers up, curled them gently over his dick, applying small dabs and strokes, revelling in his laboured breathing.

"Why should the one exclude the other?" I rubbed my nose along his jawline, licked his earlobe and started kissing my way down his neck before dragging my hand down, popping the rest of the buttons, finally exposing the length of him. He stopped breathing altogether when I started pulling at his boxers, and I could feel the slight tremble running through his arms and hands where he was bracing against my hips, shoving me back, leaving me space to work. I laughed softly into his ear, slowly folding my other hand around him while still keeping the light friction on the tip. The taut skin was smooth and warm, covering the hard ridges and veins, pulsating slightly, twitching in my palm, and he hadn't been lying when he said massive. Stifling a moan, I kept my voice at a whisper. "You want me to stop?"

"I... I—" He stopped short as I tightened my grip and began pumping him carefully, squeezing his head, rotating a little before I let up, repeating the motions slowly. "Oh fuuuuckkk." His eyes rolled back, his mouth fell open. I grinned widely, and I redirected my eyes, taking in the sight, dragged my tongue over my lips, imagining them wrapped around him, imagining the taste. "Live, I—" The rest of his words drowned in a low moan as I picked up the pace, squeezing gently, seeing him fighting to keep in control, and judging by his lack of breathing and tense, rigid posture, losing the battle.

"What?" I landed a gentle kiss and licked his lips slowly, giggling softly into his mouth. "What, Alex?" He bored his blackened pupils into mine, managing a sardonic brow and shook his head, struggling to keep his eyes on me and not on the inside of his skull.

"I—" His throat bobbed as he struggled to get his ragged voice to work. "Damn. What the fuck are you doing to me? You need to stop or—Ffffuck." I laughed at the wording, the plea a bit unconvincing as he pushed himself hard against my hands. I tightened my grip further and picked up the pace, keeping eye contact as I started scooting back, dragging my tongue over my lips, wetting them. He watched as I bent down, extending my tongue, circled his tip once. He tasted better than I had imagined and I could feel myself salivating, wanting more. His breath hitched and he swallowed hard, his grip on my hips bordering on painful. I closed my lips around him and sucked gently as I met my mouth with a rotating motion with my hand. "Goddamn. No." I pressed my tongue down, wriggling a little, causing a hard jerk and squirm as he let out a ragged stream of air.

"No?" I looked up as he reached down and cupped my chin, smirking.

"Not _no_. Just... You're ruining my elaborate plan. And you're enjoying it far too much." I looked at him, as much of a picture of pure innocence one can be with precum coating one's lips and the salt taste of cock in one's mouth, my hand still pumping him carefully.

"Your plan? What was that again?" He grinned wider.

"You want me to remind you?" I bit my lip to stop my whimper, his words still crystal clear in my mind. He pulled me closer, leaned into my ear.

"I want you on my bed. I want you naked underneath me. And I want to fuck you senseless." He stared into my eyes, his endless black depths. "I believe that was the gist. You still game?" Chills ran over my skin in currents, I really had no defence when he lowered his voice like that, and I lost the ability of speech again.

"Uh-hu. Mmhm. Uhu." He gave me an angelic smile and brushed his lips to mine before folding up his boxers, renewing his grip on my hips, and pulled me closer.

"Let's go then." He dug his heels down, grabbed my ass and hoisted me up, landing me on his bare stomach, a reminder how fucking wet I was, letting out something halfway between a growl and a chuckle as I crashed my mouth to his. His lips firmly attached he shifted his grip, leaned forward and got up, my legs clinging around his waist, his fingers spread wide under my buttocks. I couldn't help drawing comparisons and reflected briefly how his slighter frame was deceiving—his biceps were bulging with a wiry strength, veins protruding under smooth flawless skin.

We'd reached the stairs when the chirping and buzzing started, causing him to stop, catching me at the railing as he broke the kiss with an annoyed huff, freed one hand and fished his phone out of his back pocket. I opened my eyes, seeing the flashing screen and a familiar id. He grumbled a string of expletives, sending me a wary look, gauging my reaction. The phone stopped ringing, and I exhaled slowly, watching him carefully when the screen lit up and announced a text.

"Shit." He pulled it up and turned the screen to let me read.

_Answer the fucking phone, or I'm coming over._

“Shit. I'm sorry." He kissed me while he released his grip, and I unhooked my ankles as he slid me down, sighing heavily. "I'm sorry. I have to." He dialled and put the phone to his ear, biting his lip, not averting his gaze until I could hear the phone connecting.

_"Finally. Where the fuck have you been? I've texted you a thousand times!"_

"This is not a good time, Seb. I'll need to call you back."

_"The fuck you do. Seriously, where are you?"_

"I'm home. I'm tired, and I need to go to bed. I'll call you tomorrow." He scrunched his face and gritted his teeth, clearly having to make an effort to keep his tone neutral.

_"Alex. What's going on?"_

"Nothing. Nothing is going on."

 _"Fuck that. You've always been a shit liar."_ There was a slight pause and a sharp breath. _"Are you alone?"_

"No." He stroked my cheek and gave my hand a short squeeze before he turned away, leaving me with a sinking feeling as I watched him walk over to the kitchen, lean on the counter, supporting his head in his hand with a heavy sigh. "No. I'm not." I couldn't hear Sebastian other than a muffled blur, and I suddenly felt like an intruder.

I started up the stairs, consciously avoided looking back and sank down on the foot of the bed, my hands clasped over my ears. _Fuck. Fuck. FUCK._ I was hit with a wave of guilt and sadness, and Sebastian's hurt face flashed before my eyes. I wasn't sure why, I didn't owe him anything, and I knew that. _But that's his brother. And you slept with_ him _. What the fuck were you thinking? You stupid bint. What the fuck did you think would happen?_ I gasped for air as Alex' words finally hit home. _He likes me_. His eager uncertain face when he'd asked if I'd wanted to go to dinner flashed before my eyes. _Sebastian goddamn Stan likes me_. I'd been lowkey—well highkey, who the fuck was I trying to fool—in love with the man for over two years, _and he likes me. We've had sex. I had sex with Sebastian Stan._

Suddenly I felt sick, my stomach a knotted mess, and I let out a dry sob. Everything came rushing back: lying on the bed, watching him over me, reliving every touch and word, every ounce of happiness and lust. My whole body was humming with the memory of it, and I had to force air into my lungs. But he'd not been Sebastian then. He'd been someone else, and that someone was the one I wanted. _Is it? Are you sure? Or is it because he's here, and Sebastian is not? But it's not up to you. I need to go_. I felt a creak as the floor gave, and he came towards me, his perfect features mirroring the sadness and guilt back at me.

"I'm sorry." He stopped a yard away, arm extended, but let it fall heavily at his side when he saw my expression. I sent him a small smile.

"Yeah. Me too. I..."

"Why? You've got nothing to be sorry about."

I snorted listlessly. "You're joking, right?" He shook his head, bent down to meet my eyes, chewing his lip, his jaw clenching as he swallowed.

"Because you've got no obligation. At all. _Me_ on the other hand..." He closed the distance and sat down, leaving a couple of feet between us, combing his hands through his hair, ruffling it, almost making me reach out. Fuck. I could smell him, I could taste his scent, and I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes before hiding my face in my hands.

"So..." I dragged my hands down, rubbing my eyes. "Did you tell him?"

"Nope." The pop at the end managed to sound utterly beaten.

"Really?" I glanced at him, he was studying his nails intently, studiously avoiding me. "Is that a good idea?"

"Well, it's better than the alternative. There's no need, is there? It'll cause more hurt than necessary." He shrugged, meeting my eyes for a second, dug his hand in his back pocket and held out a folded piece of paper. "Here. I'm sorry I didn't give it to you right away." I took it gingerly but made no move to open it, I just stared at it, dumbstruck. I'd completely forgotten. "Actually I'm not." He rubbed his temples, leaned on his knees and hung his head exhaling heavily. "I'm not even a little bit sorry. I'm a fucking asshole." He rested his chin in his palm and turned to me, a tiny tug at the corner of his mouth. My eyes darted between him and the note, and he nodded at it. "Go on. Read it." I opened it slowly, my chest constricting, unsure if I even wanted to.

_Live._

_I'm so sorry. I fucked up. I really didn't mean for it to be like this, and I had no idea what would happen. I'm not even sure why I did it. I know it doesn't really matter, but I hope you can believe I never meant to hurt you. But I did, and I'm sorry. You don't owe me shit, I'd probably deserve if you never spoke to me again, but I really want to see you, if for nothing else than to explain. If you'd be willing to. Please call me._

_Love, Seb_

_PS: I was a total asshole, and I deserved that slap. You can slap me again if you want._

_PPS: I can get you Downey's autograph._

He'd included his phone number, email and home address, and I realised why Alex had laughed when he got it. I tried to suppress the prickling of tears, but they welled up despite my efforts. Damn. I sniffed and swallowed back the thickness, feeling like absolute crap. Again he made to touch me, changed his mind and dropped his arm.

"As I said, I'm an asshole."

"Yeah. I guess you are." I rolled my neck, trying to loosen some tension, but it was useless. I could feel a headache building, I felt completely drained and I started worrying that I was drunker than I had thought only minutes earlier. "And I'm stupid." I let myself fall back on the bed, closed my eyes and felt the room spin a little. Fuck. Yep. Definitely drunker than I'd thought.

"No, you're not. You didn't know." His hand finally closed around mine, and I took it, the need for some comfort overwhelming.

"No, I guess not." I felt him staring at me, but I couldn't open my eyes. "I need to go." The bed gave a little, and he slumped down beside me, his thumb brushing my hand.

"Stay. It's after midnight, and you're drunk." A mirthless laugh bubbled up, and I peered at him, but he kept his eyes fixed at the ceiling,

"Really? You think that's a good idea?"

"Sure. You can have the bed, I'll take the couch. I'll even throw in a toothbrush and fresh clothes as a show of good faith." He lifted my hand to his mouth, pressed his lips to my knuckles and erected himself, pulling me with him. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"Promises, promises," I muttered on the inhale, but judging from his tiny smirk and headshake, he'd heard me perfectly. I flashed him a grin and let him drag me up, testing my balance, furrowing my brows at the slight pounding in my head. He held me steady, his hands on my shoulders, the light touch much hotter than it should be. I suddenly felt self-conscious about the dampness of the sweats clinging to my thighs, and I averted my eyes, trying not to notice the discolouration on his jeans.

"I'm fine." He let go instantly, but I could hear the small hitch and sigh.

"I'll find you something to wear. There is a fresh toothbrush under the sink." He walked over to the closet, hesitated a second before he started rooting through, and I made my way to the bathroom, leaving the door ajar and ducked under the sink. I found the toothbrush still in the wrapper and opened the medicine cabinet, relieved to find some Advil. I took two and was chugging them back when I heard the door creak. "There should be a glass in the other cabinet, it'll make it easier." He was leaning against the frame, holding a bundle, watching me with some bemusement as I tried to drink from my hand.

"Thanks. It's done. I stole some painkillers."

"Anything you need." He laid the clothes on the floor by the door. "Here. I'll wait until you're done." He vanished from view, shoved the door shut, and I drew a long breath, wanting to call him back. I hated the awkwardness, and I regretted not just leaving. It'd have been stupid, I was clearly not at full mental capacity, but it was downright painful having him so close and not be able to touch him. _Fuck. FUCK!_

I undressed in slow motion, took my pathetic excuse for underwear and left them in the sink to soak while I stepped into the shower for the fourth time within 24 hours. I needed to clear my head and washed my hair, closing my eyes when the familiar scent surrounded me. My heart was aching, I felt I'd lost twice, and I was pretty sure which one I lamented the most. The note had shaken me, but not enough to surpass what had happened during the night. Just the thought spread heat downwards again, and I leaned back, closed my eyes and used the shower for some relief. If I was going to have any chance of sleep I needed to relax, but it was a poor replacement, and in the end it almost made it worse.

I finished up, hoping he'd not taken notice of how long I was in there, dried up before I wrung out my panties and hung them over the shower rod. He would be guaranteed to see them, but I figured it was mostly his handiwork, and I didn't have any embarrassment left. I towel dried my hair, pulled it back in a braid, and grabbed the t-shirt he'd left. It was a faded dark grey, the print almost gone, but it was soft and long enough to cover my ass. It was strangely touching to have him finding clothing that clearly meant something to him for me to wear. I pulled it over my head and started brushing my teeth, the prospect of sleep suddenly alluring. I left the toothbrush on the sink, opened the door and stopped short.

He was leaning by the door, waiting, his arm pulling me in as I set foot outside. He'd turned off the main light, and in the semi-darkness his eyes were black and glittering. He had his hand flat on the small of my back, and the other behind my head, pausing to wait until I had time to respond before he covered my mouth with his. He tasted of mint and chocolate, he'd clearly been prepared, and the kiss was tender and unhurried, the complete opposite what it had been. His tongue circled mine slowly, tasting me, lingering and longing, and it felt like he was committing something to memory. After what felt like hours he broke off and pulled back, I was short of breath, and my hands were reluctant to relinquish their hold on his shirt. He bored his eyes into mine for a long time and pressed his lips softly to my cheek.

"Good night." The smile was small, and it didn't reach his eyes, but I was happy for it. Feeling like absolute shit, sure, but still better, I had to consciously pry my fingers off him. I dropped my hands and turned towards the bed, his stare hot on my back before I heard the door shut. I crawled under the covers and closed my eyes to the sound of the water running, and wondered if he too jerked off thinking about me as I had of him.

The soft click of the door and creak of the stairs woke me, I hadn't even realised I'd fallen asleep. I could feel a slight tingle on my temple, a lingering warmth from a touch, and I became aware of the light. I peered out and saw the top of his head descending the stairs, the sunlight filtering through the blinds, giving his hair a reddish tinge. _What the fuck? What time is it?_ I looked around, searching for some indicator, realising I'd not brought my phone upstairs with me. I'd not taken it out since I got there, I'd not been without my phone this long since the late 90s. _Goddamn fuck_. I sat up on the bed, trying my head, checking for the thundering headache I expected. To my relief it wasn't there, only a heaviness and a dull thump bore witness of my escapades, I wasn't even nauseous. I stood up, slowly just in case, and cleared my throat.

"Is it okay if I shower?" It came out a little more tentative than I intended, it felt strange that it should feel awkward, we'd shared so much it was absurd we'd only met yesterday.

"Of course. Anything you need."

"Thanks." I heard him walk around, the coffeemaker puffing, and suppressed the urge to peek over the railing, needing some time to gather myself before I faced him. I went into the bathroom, undressed and ran the shower, reflecting briefly that I'd spent more time in there than anyone should within the first week probably. I was glad to find my underwear in better condition than I'd left it, and when I started for the sweats and shirt I found them gone. In their stead was my own clothes, looking pristine. For a moment I stood stunned, wondering if he'd actually ironed them. _Of course he hasn't, don't be stupid._ I still reached down and checked, relieved to see the small creases from the dryer. _Stupid_. But still, just the fact that he'd thought to bring them upstairs made me having to inhale deeply, staggering the flow of emotion, again inexplicably touched. Why did he have to be so fucking _nice_? I got dressed, spent some time trying to make my hair behave and my face look halfway decent without access to makeup—but since I'd basically been without since we'd first met I figured it didn't matter much. _Fuck it_. I drew a long breath and gingerly stepped out.

It smelt delicious of coffee, but it was quiet downstairs. I saw Sebastian's note on the nightstand, it was lying face up, almost shouting at me. I picked it up and without further ado tucked it into my pocket. I didn't dare reflect too closely on how it made me feel. Rolling my neck and huffing my chest I started at the stairs, stepped as lightly as I could and tiptoed over and grabbed my phone from my bag in the hall, for some reason not wanting to announce my presence.

"Good morning." The voice was soft and gentle, but I still yelped and jumped a foot, clutching my chest as I turned. He was sitting sideways on the couch, reading on his phone, nursing a Starbucks cup. The table was covered with books and an open laptop. I felt certain everything pertained to _Paradise_ _Lost_ , unless he'd spent the night on Porn Hub, which, to be fair, would be understandable.

His hair was in disarray, his face shining, eyes bright and impossibly blue. He was wearing a black t-shirt and blue sweatpants, earbuds tucked into his collar, and he looked hot and sweaty—he'd clearly been out running. I returned his brilliant smile until I could feel it freeze. He looked gorgeous, he was the picture of perfection, he was everything I wanted to see first thing in the morning, and he wasn't Alex.


	5. Yeah. Sure. I love the smell of coffee in the morning.

_Seb and Alex at SDCC 2013. Photo:[NN](http://lowkeysebastianstan.tumblr.com/)._

"Fuck." The expletive was barely audible, but hardly the sole outwards evidence of the internal uproar I had going on. My jaw was slack, my throat dry, my eyelids were fluttering, creating some weird visual effects, but more notable must have been that my ears were full of what felt like actual cotton and my chest was heaving from lack of air and the fact that my heart was trying to beat its way out of my ribcage.

_What? the? everloving? fuck? is? he? doing? here? Jesus. No. No, no, no, no, no. No. I need to get out. Now. I need to say something. Fucking hell he's beautiful. NO! DON'T EVEN GO THERE! But goddammit all to hell, does he smell as good as he looks? Even all sweaty? No! That's NOT up for investigation. Just turn the fuck around and get the fuck out, now is the chance you've wanted for 16 hours. Or 20? What time is it? Seems early? Seems longer. JESUS! Why is he here? Oh, shut up, you know why he's here. Fuck. He was right. Alex was right. He does like me. And he knew I would be here. But how? What did they talk about? Why the fuck didn't I ask? Would it have made a difference? No. Wait, yes. I would know. Does Alex know he's here? Where the fuck is he? Oh my actual fucking god. Just ask him. Just ask. Somebody's got to speak. He's waiting. He's staring at you like you're a crazy person. Well, he ain't wrong. God why does he have to look that good. What's wrong with you? SPEAK!_

"What time is it?" The absurdity of the question wasn't lost on me—on the other hand, I was vaguely grateful that that was the one that had forced its way out. Judging from his expression it wasn't lost on him either. His smile faltered, uncertainty flickered across his face, and I felt guilty for some reason. I tried to relax and had another go. "Sebastian." I kept my voice chill and dry, and when he looked confused, I had an inkling as to why. I just watched him and waited.

"It's Seb. Please. I told y—" His mouth snapped shut when he took in my exasperation and it dawned on him. "Oh." 

I was mentally kicking myself for allowing my stupid heart to sink in my chest. _Fuck_. I kept up the cool appearance and nodded slowly. "Yeah. No. You really, really didn't." 

If his expression could be believed I'd aimed my mental kicks a bit wide, and even if he probably deserved a few corporeal ones, I hated that I already wanted to cave. 

"I could go with Alex if you prefer?" I gave him what I hoped was a sardonic smirk, not really wanting to reveal my hand quite yet. He opened his mouth to protest, shutting it when he came up short, and I rolled my eyes a little, relieving the tension slightly. He was unable to hide the small exhale of relief.

"Yeah. I deserve that." He swallowed and looked down at his cup, chewing his cheek. His stupid, hollowed out, cheekbone and jawline enhancing cheek. In his stupid face with his stupid blue eyes so bright they made me want to squint. _Fuck this guy. Yes, you already did_. I high fived my brain and had to fight to keep up the stern, cold front.

"Yes. Yes, you fucking do." 

He hung his head at the, to be fair, far from harsh enough beratement, but seeing him there made it so damn hard to feed the anger. If I was going to be completely honest I'd even have to admit the effort was feeding something else. I shied away from that particular dangerous line of thought. I had to at least try not to throw myself at him two days in a row, especially when his brother had basically been my main course on the menu. The appetizer was still fresh in my mind though—and becoming fresher by the minute. _Oh goddamn lord almighty. Will you stop and get a hold of yourself for just a minute?_

"Seb. How are you this fine morning?" The words were unnaturally high, and I saw my efforts were clearly unsuccessful when he smirked and shook his head, his eyes crinkling in renewed amusement.

"I'm good, thank you. The day's looking up as we speak." He leaned forward, sat his cup on the table, nodding to the kitchen island. "There's coffee." 

I looked over and could hardly believe my eyes. _Is he serious? Wow_. He put down his phone, got up and fetched the other paper cup from the counter. He popped off the cardboard tray as he went and stopped three feet away, extending it with careful expectancy. It was a venti, presumably a latte, and my name was on the label. 

"Three sugars, right?" 

Between the cup, the name and his small, rather shy smile I almost choked up. I could feel my jaw working, but no sound came out. His face fell again at my ambiguous reaction.

"Unless you'd rather want regular? I was going to make some in case you slept longer and it got too cold, but then I figured I'd just start it when I heard you get up." He almost babbled, reminding me how he'd sounded when he had asked me to dinner—well, an actual _date_ —and the shy smile was back, mixed with something best described as trepidation. "In case you're not in a latte kind of mood. I even picked up some milk." I blinked and tried to voice my protest. "Yes, I know. I just figured you'd want the choice." He must have read my face, he seemed to be regaining some confidence, but underneath the facade there was another flash of insecurity, and I realised he was really taking a chance. _Fuck. Fucking fuck fuck_. I reached out for the cup in his hand, still feeling dazed. His smile widened as he handed it over. "8:45."

"Huh?" I stopped my hand mid-air.

"The time. It's 8:45. In the am." His eyes were so bright I felt like squinting, but I couldn't look away. At least they weren't blown. _Although I'm guessing mine might be_. I was suddenly very grateful for the sun behind him, basic physiology couldn't fail me the same way my body did. _That's basic physiology too, you daft prickette._ Huh. At least my mind was having a field day.

"Thanks." I took the cup, almost choked as I fought to suppress the shiver caused by the heat in my fingertips where they'd grazed his. I had a tentative sip. It was perfect. Of course it was. My hand was shaking slightly. So much for the physiology. "It's like you know me." Something that looked like hope glinted in his eyes, and I couldn't help the genuine, but small smile that broke out.

"Well, I pride myself on being a fast learner." He actually folded his hands behind his back and rolled on his feet while looking down, biting his lip. That goddamn lip. _Shit_. Even behaving like a 10-year-old... Wow. He peeked up at me, grinning a little, and I contemplated gouging my eyes out and toss them in a salad spinner, I really couldn't do it well enough on my own. _Jesus_. I kept my eyes on him, carefully gauging my bullshit meter, which I pride myself is top notch. Everything about him screamed authenticity, but well. So it had yesterday too.

"Huh." I took another sip, eyeing him over the brim. "Yeah. I suppose you do." I was aware of his eyes on me the whole time, and fearful of the warm feeling it gave me. I made my way over to the counter, pleased to find my hand more steady. I smiled as I went and hoped it was the careful mixture of self-confidence and charm I was aiming for. Why should he be the only one causing pain? Besides, I had to remember I was actually the wounded party, and he was the perpetrator trying to make good. I had the power. So why did I feel like I was ready to forgive and forget and skip happily into the sunset? Via some copious fucking obviously. _Blame it on the other one, and his damn promises_. I had to blink to chase _those_ thoughts away and was grateful he couldn't see my face.

He stood stunned for a second, but caught up fast and scrambled ahead of me, pulling out a stool with an exaggerated gesture. Laughing silently I shook my head at him, sat down and waited for him to get his own cup. He settled at the short end, bumping his knees into mine, making me wish I was still pantless and also to stick a fork in my eye. _Why don't you leave? Just leave_. Any distraction would do, although I couldn't imagine much would actually work. His looks and demeanour were innocence incarnate and sex on a stick at the same time, and just because I'd been in a state for near 24 hours didn't mean it was easier to handle. _How the fuck does he do that? How do they do that? Goddammit all to hell._ I let out a small sigh, still shaking my head, but the smile never left neither my nor his lips.

"So..." I forced myself to look him steadily in the eye and sighed lightly of relief when he actually had the shame to look away. I'd been adamant I was not going to cave.

"So." He took a long draught before he met my gaze and grimaced before he cleared his throat and began. "Can I try to explain?" He looked nervous as hell, and for a second I considered just letting him off. I forced myself to keep my expression neutral, shrugged noncommittally, and he inhaled and continued.

"Okay. So. First of all, I can't really express how fucking sorry I am." I opened my mouth and shut it as he shook his head. "No, please let me say this." He sent me a pleading look, and satisfied himself that I would let him finish, went on, his voice a bit uneven. "As I said, I'm really fucking sorry. I was up all night, trying to come up with a defence, but there really isn't one. I mean, yes. I've done that before." My brows shot up, and his cheeks coloured—becomingly of course—but he didn't wait for me to mount a response.

"Listen. I just have to say this. I have done that, pretended to be him, but never like this. It's well known in this neighbourhood, and other places too, that he lives here. So I've taken advantage of that. I've had a lot of people come up to me, in all kinds of spaces, I've had people following me home, camp outside my gym, take pictures when I didn't know, come up to me, asking for selfies and autographs, and I know. It comes with the job, and I'm not feeling sorry for myself, I'm really not. I'm grateful as fuck that I have this life and these opportunities, and I wouldn't change it for the world." He paused, clearly analysing my reaction, looking for exasperation or judgement. I took another sip and indicated he could continue.

"But sometimes it gets to me. It gets to be too much. So I come here, preferably when Alex is away, and I pretend. I go, well, anywhere, but café's and coffee shops and restaurants in particular, and I just, well, I just am. And when anyone asks, I just tell them I'm him. Because they all know about him, and most accept they have no right to him. Am I making sense?" He shot me another look, and I had to concentrate to keep my face in check, I was suppressing tears—it sounded so damn lonely. _Fuck_. Although I had already guessed the reason, to hear him tell it, to word it like that, well... It made my heart fucking bleed, and I hated myself more than I hated him. He obviously found what he was looking for, but there was no triumph, only relief to see.

"So naturally, when I bumped into you, or you into me, to be exact"—a brief smirk—"I did it again. But only this time, well—it kinda escalated. And that's _not_ something I've done before. Ever." He swallowed, and I realised I was clamping the cup so hard it was becoming misshapen. I set the cup down before I squashed it hard enough to make it pop and a repeat of the previous day could occur. Not that I would have minded at this point, but still. He followed my movements warily, but I thought I saw that his mind had followed the same track, and his mouth curled up in a fleeting, almost wistful smile.

"But I realise that's no excuse. There were plenty of times I could have told you, come clean. And the shit thing is that I wanted to. No matter how fucking caught up in the moment I was. I didn't want..." He inhaled deeply. "I never wanted to deceive you. I truly didn't. But I didn't see that coming either." He looked down, twirled his cup, seemingly not daring to look at me. "I didn't in a million years think that would happen. And I didn't think, I never thought... Shit." He blushed again, and my heart picked up an alarming pace.

"I mean, the sex, which was mind-blowing by the way"—he blushed deeply—"well, that aside... I never—" He visibly shook himself and forced the words out. "This is going to come out wrong, so please don't judge me too hard, but I... I never thought I'd like you. Not like this."

He looked like he was fighting a panic attack, and before I knew it I had reached out and covered his hand with mine. He froze, stared at my hand for a long moment before tentatively turning his, and folded it gently around mine, his thumb stroking it slowly. His hand was damp, but the touch radiated through my fingers and palm, sending hot waves up my arm and down my midriff. _Holy shit. Yeah, I'm fucked_. My chest surged and soared as I was reminded of how wonderful it had been, only a day earlier—the easy banter, the intense flirting, the insane sex, the fucking elation and joy. Until it came to a screeching halt, true, but at this pace that would soon be forgotten.

"Sebastian. I mean Seb." The correction came automatically, he wasn't Sebastian Stan anymore, he was Seb, he was here and he was real. _Shit, shit, SHIT!_ "Listen, I—"

"No. Please, let me finish." He smiled, but it was more relaxed, more confident, and I let him carry on. "So yeah. I like you. A lot. I think you're funny, I think you're smart and interesting, and yes, you're fucking gorgeous, and an amazing lay, but that's actually not that far up the list." My cheeks were burning, I kept my eyes firmly locked on our hands, but I couldn't stop the silent giggle, and his hand squeezed mine as he joined in. "Listen. I'm not saying true love or anything. I don't even know you, and I won't pretend it's more than it is. But that's what happens, right? You're attracted to someone for a reason. True, sex usually comes later, but for me at least there's no reason why it can't evolve from here." He drew a long breath, before he exhaled raggedly, and leaned forward, catching my eyes. Damn those eyes, they were so bright and icy and blue, and _soft_.

"Live... I'm sorry. I really am. And if you still don't want to see me again, I don't blame you. I perfectly understand. But I would really love to get to know you, and I promise not to fuck up again." He chuckled. "Well, that's aiming a bit high, I promise not to fuck up like _this_ again. I won't lie to you." With a deep sigh he straightened, and I tried to silence the chaos in my head to mount an intelligent response. Hell, I'd settle for intelligible, my brain was working furiously to process, and the rest of me was already done. "That's it. I think that's it." He didn't meet my eyes, just stayed silent while awaiting my judgement. I cleared my throat, still not sure how to begin.

"Okay. Right." I chewed my lip, a renewed wave of heat when I saw him staring. _Well, well, well. So two can play that game. Well, three. But good to know_. I took a hefty swig at the lukewarm coffee, needing to get some moisture in my mouth. "Okay. So I won't pretend you didn't hurt me. I think that was a shit move, I do. But I get it. I get why you did it, and I get that the, er, unexpected turn of events caught you off guard. I don't usually do this either, at least not without copious amounts of alcohol being involved." I smirked, and he grinned, clearly grateful for the lighter tone. "Sure, I still think you could have just stopped. Just stopped long enough to come clean, and let me choose." He deflated a bit, this was the weakest part of his apology, and he knew perfectly well.

"I don't even know what I would have done." His eyes widened, but he reined himself in, granting me the same courtesy I'd given him. "Sure. I don't think it would've made a difference, not at that moment, because I'll be fair and say I was rather caught up in it too." My cheeks weren't the only thing burning, I could feel my chest colouring too, and obviously the reminder didn't exactly calm other overeager parts of my body. "I have to be honest and say that it was kind of the best of two worlds. Getting you, but without the added complications. Does that make sense?" He nodded but didn't look too happy with where I was going.

"But I also have to say... Well... I like you too. Well, what I know of you. Which is both a lot, and practically nothing at all." He hung his head a little, causing me to tighten my grip, and he smiled rather sadly. "But I get it. I get why, I do. It's fucked up that part of your life, and it must be all kinds of stressful and unbelievably hard to keep that balance. So I get it. And even if I really wish you'd told me sooner, or, you know, at all"—his sigh was loaded, but I continued—"I get it, and I forgive you." He sent me a hopeful glance, but quickly averted his eyes when he realised I wasn't done. "I guess what I'm saying is that I like the little I know. And not only because you're average looking and a decent lay. I forgive you."

His whole face brightened, his mouth curled up a little, and he shifted back, careful not to disturb the position of our hands—maybe not daring to. The sight of him in front of me, from vulnerable and remorseful to so damn eager and happy, well. I'm only human and I found it stilled any doubt I had. _Fuck. Fuckety fuck. Well, this makes everything so easy. Goddamn it_. I had another big mouthful of coffee, feeling certain these were not the conversations best had first thing in the morning, and the way he copied me told me he agreed. Only, of course, it wasn't quite as early for him. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, seemingly uncertain how to continue. Reaching some decision he fixed my gaze and sighed.

"Thank you." He rubbed his thumb a little harder as to reinforce the words. "Thank you for hearing me out, and not least forgiving me." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Really. Thank you. It means a lot." He sighed heavily again and shook his head. He sent me a blinding smile, and I almost blinked, unable to hide the flush. "Fuck. I'm so glad I came." He grinned wider, the playful tone and easy demeanour starting to show, and I returned the smile, grateful that the worst was over, and that the tension was subsiding.

"Why did you come?" He stopped dead.

"Er... What do you mean?" He looked thoroughly confused, so I obliged.

"Well, how did you know I was still here?" His brows shot up as he caught on, and I watched him, wondering briefly whether he could really be surprised.

"Ah. Well, I spoke to Alex last night. You probably missed that, he said you'd gone to bed." His tone was light, he showed no indication that he believed otherwise, and I tried my best to appear unruffled. I couldn't help the heat in my cheeks, and I had to swallow harder than I wished

"So he told you I'd still be here?" He sent me a searching glance, I felt my face heat up a little and averted my gaze to where his hand was still cradling mine. I watched in fascination as I realised that my own thumb was equally active. I'd not even noticed.

"No, he didn't. I just assumed, or hoped, that you'd still be here." He grinned again, colour seeping into his cheeks, and I almost flinched at the beauty of it.

"And speaking of your brother, where is he?" I was conscious that it'd had taken so long to actually ask, but it wasn't like I'd not been preoccupied.

"Oh, he had a meeting. I texted him this morning before I went out." His tone was casual, there was no indication he suspected anything, but the turn of the conversation had me squirm slightly. "He shouldn't be too long. He probably didn't want to wake you." I struggled to keep my curiosity at bay, Alex' silence the previous night had left a lot to be desired. I figured I could risk a little satisfaction, after all I really didn't have to lie, I truly didn't know what had been said.

"And this phone call." I drained my coffee, hiding my face. "Did it involve me in any way?" I felt his scrutiny, but his perfect features didn't reveal anything.

"Well, yes. It did. It didn't involve much else." He emptied his cup too and nodded towards the coffeemaker. "More coffee?"

"Oh god yes. Please." He smiled and gave my hand a last, firm squeeze before releasing it with obvious reluctance. He slid off the stool, flexing his hand and drying it off on his shirt as he turned against the counter. Mine was prickling as the blood returned, I hadn't realised how hard we'd held. I watched him as he got the mugs and poured the coffee, a delicious smell wafting through the air as the contents stirred. He opened the fridge, turned to me and held up the milk in a silent question. I smiled and shrugged, and he flashed his teeth smugly. "Sugar?" I shook my head, and he returned, setting the mug in front of me and sat down with a self-satisfied expression. I grinned into my cup, an unexpected warmth spreading in my chest, and I had to concentrate hard to not revert into the adoring mess I'd been before.

"Thank you." As he looked like perfection incarnate it would have been an easy transition. The frankly delicious sheen of sweat was gone, his hair had dried, casually falling down into his eyes, framing his cheeks as he combed his hand through it, the stubble accentuating his jaw and fucking full, red, shiny lips— _why are they like that_ —his pecs and abs clearly visible where his shirt clung to his torso, his biceps and forearms smooth and sun-kissed, and his hands. In a flash I remembered how they'd felt on my skin, not now, but before, and the thought lingered until it conflated with the other ones, and what they were capable of. _Abort, ABORT!_ I tasted the coffee, sipping carefully as it was much hotter than the last dregs of the latte had been. It was superb, sharper than I remembered it, even with the milk, and I began to understand that at least one of them was somewhat of a coffee aficionado. Because why the fuck not. 

"You're welcome." He busied himself with his own drink, and I tasted the silence, finding it comfortable enough to breach the subject further.

"So. This call..." He smirked and met my eyes steadily, the familiar teasing glint playing, and I was hard-pressed to keep my train of thought.

"Yes?" I studiously ignored the tone.

"What else was said? Er, um, you know. About me?" He chuckled.

"Oh, you know. This and that. Actually, I'm lying, it was more about me." He let out an exaggerated sigh, demonstrating fully how much more comfortable he was. "How bad I felt. And what you felt. I told him how we met and tried to explain. He didn't know about my, er, practice." He grimaced, telling me he'd not really enjoyed sharing that piece of information. "He was fine with it, he doesn't really do Starbucks that much anyway." He cleared his throat. "He didn't tell me much though. Told me you'd had pizza, and that you had to go to bed, that you were a bit drunk." He shot me a glance. "That you'd been angry and sad, but that you'd distanced yourself, that you didn't seem that mad anymore." The last words were whispered, and my heart skipped a few beats. "So I decided I'd try my luck." He shook his head, and his expression cleared, his teeth on full display again. "Which I'm so happy I did!"

He tipped his mug at me, and I returned the gesture automatically, my head still trying to process the new development. _Okay, but he did tell you. He did tell you he'd not told him anything. But of course he must have told him something. He would've had to justify you being there all night. It's his brother. They're close, they're twins for fuck's sake. Not that close though_. That little voice piping up at the end was infuriating. But right. Just for Alex to allow that to happen, no matter how bad he must have felt about it. _He also hid the note_. I told the voice to shut it, I really didn't want more turmoil, just the thought of harbouring resentment towards him after all we'd shared, well, it hurt. And also confused the fuck out of me.

Sitting across from Sebastian, I couldn't believe I'd ever found them interchangeable, they were so different. Maybe not in appearance or body language, but personality wise they were nothing alike. Superficially, sure, but not in their core. On the other hand, I didn't know any of them. Not really. _You know Alex._ Did I though? I'd thought I'd known Seb as well, at least a little, but here he was, completely shifting my view of him. _What the absolute fuck have I gotten myself into?_ I was so lost in my reverie that he had to poke my arm to get my attention, shooting currents down my spine, even as I was staring at him the whole time.

"Hi. You there?" I blinked and returned to reality, trying furiously to hide any outward sign of embarrassment He laughed. "Where did you go?" I gaped a little, trying to formulate a response. "You don't have to tell me, it looked pleasant. Or maybe a little confusing." I could swear I saw traces of a wink, and my eyes widened, it was far too close for comfort and a little unnerving.

"No, no. I was just..." I shook my head. "Nevermind. It was nothing." I inhaled deeply and got hold of myself. It was a weak hold, true, but I managed to continue, so I tallied a win. "I'm happy too. That you took the chance." I met his gaze, indulged myself to an eyeful of the magic of his face, flinching as I felt the heat between my legs, but I smiled at him and revelled in the renewed genuine connection. _But Alex. Shush_. The short silence was relaxed, even if I had to keep some shit at bay, and we settled into a real conversation—the first real conversation we'd had, truth be told.

He was even more charming in this environment, the intimacy clearly helped him, every trace of his public persona had vanished. Apart from his wit, easy laugh and brilliant smiles, and the incessant fondling of his hair, but still. He was all easy smiles and laughter, he wasn't afraid to laugh at himself, he asked me questions with eager interest, and responded to mine with enthusiasm. He told me stories from set, not only the MCU but his other movies as well, he told me how he'd embarrassed himself when meeting people he admired, making me blush deeply as I recognised my own behaviour when I'd met him. He talked about his writing and asked about mine, and I even educated him a little on _Paradise Lost_ , which, as it turned out, Alex had thanked him for not pretending to know. He admitted having tried reading it, due to Alex' interest, but he preferred other genres, sci-fi in particular, and since he had to read so much and keep up because of his work, he'd never really had the time to explore.

He even gave me some insight on Bucky, and how he felt the arc should be, and what he hoped for, but he was vague enough so that I couldn't really pin down any set opinion, mainly he asked what mine were. I perfectly understood, he obviously couldn't reveal anything; if Alex was hindered by confidentiality clauses, he was ten times more so. We still indulged in a comic book discourse, he was well-versed even outside the Marvel/Brubaker side of things, and I was pleased with the discovery. With some gentle nudging he, in turn, got going on the Mars and space missions, and to see him so eager and passionate up close was immensely gratifying. It ran so smoothly and was so pleasant I felt like slapping myself for my anger, even if I was painfully aware of the reason for it.

The coffee ran out, but he started another pot. He even scrounged up some breakfast. It turned out he'd brought bagels, but hadn't dared presume I'd want them. I quickly corrected him, and he seemed overly pleased, causing a slight catch in my airways. Why did the thought entice me so much? One minor complication was that with the lack of tension he became more animated, gesturing freely and his hand kept finding mine, just brief touches and strokes, his knees seemed to brush mine constantly, and at every point of impact I was kept on edge. You'd think I'd be desensitised, but no. If anything it got even worse, probably since I now knew exactly what would happen if it was acted on.

Eventually I excused myself to go to the bathroom, not that I really needed to but to give my heart and high strung muscles a break. I availed myself of the facilities, but I refrained from showering, it couldn't be healthy to keep that up. As I washed up I took in my appearance, and I was struck with how relaxed I looked. My eyes were bright, I couldn't stop grinning, and I realised just how much it had weighed on me. True, I'd been flushed and hectic the previous night, much more so, but this was another thing entirely, it wasn't just lust.

With a pang I was brought back, and I spent a few minutes collecting myself, wondering how I was going to handle meeting Alex again. _There's no reason you can't have him too. As a friend._ The thought hit me with a kick to the gut, and I stopped myself from following through. I finished up and went back down, forcing some bounce in my step. He lit up when I arrived, and I returned his smile easily. I clambered onto the stool with less grace than I could have wished for and joined him in a laugh before I froze completely. He reached out and stroked my cheek, apparently any facial disarray—be it hair, tears or otherwise—was irresistible to brothers of the Stan variety. His eyes were soft, his fingers even more so, and I put my hand on his, pressing his palm to my chin, closing my eyes. He swallowed heavily, and the tension returned, and when I looked at him, well. Basic physiology was at work, and my resolve was diminishing at an alarming pace. _No. NO!_

"Seb..." I tried to keep my voice steady, but it was raspy and low. He sighed, but smiled, cupped my cheek and ghosted his knuckles down my neck before he straightened. He folded his arms, leaned forward, but kept his distance. I tucked my own hand away, the feel of him still burning, and I suddenly regretted not taking a cold shower when I had the chance. _FUCK! Fuck him, fuck his brother, fuck them both. You have, or near enough_. I slapped my mind, it wasn't half as funny as it thought it was. _Just let me live_. We sat in silence for several moments, shooting each other small glances, averting our eyes whenever they were met. After an eternity he cleared his throat.

"So... _Can_ I have your number?" He flashed me a grin, but averted his eyes again, keeping up the show, convincing me of his continued contrition and uncertainty. I snorted silently, the show was so obvious, but since I wasn't surprised or longer averse to the request, I just laughed silently. "I'm obviously not expecting anything. I just thought, you know, casual. Maybe meet for coffee sometime." Between the babble and the smoothness I discerned the first sign of any sort of show that reminded me that he was, in fact, an actor, and a world-class one at that. "Or anything. I'm not picky." I shoved the thought away, I didn't even want to entertain the idea, and the feeling disappeared as soon as it had come.

"Yeah. I suppose. I did forgive you after all." His whole demeanour changed, and he grinned wider, relaxed visibly, fleetingly reminding me of a labrador puppy realising he'd get cuddles instead of a reprimand. _Shit_. Even after everything, he'd still been unsure if I'd give him my number. Huh. He started coiling the cord on his earbuds, collecting them to get to his phone, coming up empty. He looked back at the table where it lay. He started turning, but I held up my hand. "No, no. I'll just call you."

I reached back into my pocket, fishing out the phone and flicking the screen to life. I'd not even checked for messages yet, and I held it at an angle until I'd swiped away the close-up of Bucky that was my lockscreen. I saw I had two messages and a fair few emails, but I figured those could wait until after. I did take note of the time though, and my eyes widened when I saw it was nearing noon. Not surprising considering all the ground we'd covered, but still. After satisfying myself that my background was still of my cat and not some semi-nude indecency of the man in front of me, I handed him the phone. "Maybe you can just call yourself, it'll make it easier?"

"Of course." He held out his hand for it, and I withdrew mine, realising I had something in my palm. _The note_. "Oh. That's such a pretty cat."

"Thank you! His name is Nimbus, he's a rascal." I looked at him, pleased and smiling at the compliment, and held up the paper. His brows shot up, and he flushed, looking embarrassed, maybe afraid I was gonna tease him with it. I sent him a reassuring smile, and he shifted back to the phone, but still with some unease. I was about to tuck it back in my pocket, but decided I couldn't resist, and started unfolding it, a warm feeling in my chest. I straightened it out and stared at it, my eyes almost watering in shock. I was positive it was the same note, I even turned it around to make certain, and sure enough, there it was.

"What the fuck." I whispered, but loud enough that he could hear me. He paused, I'd missed that he was laughing at something on my phone, but I couldn't concentrate enough to investigate. He watched me warily, a silent question as he looked from the note to my face.

"What's wrong?" His voice was laced with concern, but I ignored him and read it, my heart beating rapidly, my breath caught in my throat.

_Live. I got called out to a meeting, and I have to leave. If I'm not back when you wake up, please, help yourself to anything you need, food, drinks or otherwise. And please, if you're still here when I get back, I won't mind that either._

_I'm sorry I had to leave, I didn't really want to. I thought about waking you, but you looked so peaceful and I figured you could use the rest. I hope you slept as well as it seemed._

_If you have to leave before I get back, can we talk later? No pressure obviously. I just thought we could continue our PL discussion, I've not had as much fun in a long time. Okay, so. If you want. Send me a message or call. Whenever. Alex_

He'd left his number, and I just gaped. _Well shit_.

"Live? What's wrong?" I tore my eyes away from the new development and just stared at him. He looked an image of innocence and concern. "Listen, I know. It's not exactly world-changing stuff, but I was in a hurry, and I just had to tell y—" He trailed off, taking me in.

"Why?" I forced it out, thick between clenched teeth, and he returned my stare, albeit less icy if I were to guess.

"Huh? I told you why?" He swallowed, clearly confused, and I shook my head, trying to shake some animation back. I turned the page toward him.

"No. Why? Why didn't I see _this_?" He leaned forward, taking the note, reading it slowly, turned it over, confirming that it was the same sheet. His brows shot up, and his eyes darted between the paper and me.

"I... I don't..." He handed it back and stuttered some vague noises. "I don't... You didn't read this?"

"No. No, Seb _astian_. I didn't." I tried to suppress the agitation, I didn't want to insinuate dishonesty, not after this. "If I had, I would have known where he was, wouldn't I?" He flinched a little and watched me intently, hurt and uncertainty apparent. _Damn_. My emphasis on his name not lost on him, probably reminding him, like it did me, however unwittingly, of him doing the same with my name, only with opposite connotations. I inhaled deeply and went on. "I found it on the nightstand. Where I'm quite sure I left it yesterday." I scrunched up my eyes, sighing a little. "I'm not completely sure though. It could have been left somewhere else, I was worn out." I assessed his reactions, but he remained silent and waiting. "It had been an eventful day." He flashed me the smallest of smiles, but reverting back to neutral folds in an instant, hanging on to my every word, nodding for me to continue. "But when I found it this morning, your note was face up. And since I had no idea that the other side was in use..." He chewed his lip slowly, seemingly contemplating my annoyance. "I just wish I'd seen it, that's all."

"Yeah. I get that." He paused, watching me, gauging my upheaval. "It was on the floor when I came upstairs." I glared at him, but he held up his hand. "But, BUT!" I clamped my jaw shut, waiting for him to finish. " _But_ all I did was scoop it up and put it on the nightstand. I didn't turn it over, I didn't read it, and I didn't see anything else _had been written_." I gritted my teeth while I took him in, carefully employing my bullshit meter again. He looked wary, a little hurt, quite uncertain and somewhat scared, but I couldn't find any sign of deceit. And still I could feel the doubt overwhelm me. "Hey. I promise, _promise_ you that I didn't try to hide that from you. I wouldn't do that. When I said I won't lie again, I meant it." He leaned forward, his hand gently covering mine, sending me an urgent, pleading look. I bit my lip but didn't withdraw my hand, I desperately wanted to believe him.

"Okay." He exhaled slowly and tightened his grip a little, mimicking our previous arrangement. "I believe you. Sorry."

"No. That's perfectly alright. I do understand why you would think that." He tugged at my hand, catching my eyes, a faint, trying smile barely showing. I was reminded of the puppy again, and I shot him a grin before I rolled both my eyes and neck. He glanced at my phone on the counter between us and pushed it towards me. "I called. Thank you." He coughed a little and I looked at him. "Interesting lockscreen by the way." _Shit. SHIT! I knew I should have taken it down. Shit!_ I groaned and sank my head down on my other arm, hiding my embarrassment, feeling his laughter resonate through his arm. At least it was Bucky, and as far as I knew he was dressed, so there was some consolation to be had.

"Shut up. Don't talk to me. Don't look at me." He just laughed harder, and thankful as I was for the break in tension, I also became extremely conscious of the sudden weight of his hand on my head. I hid until the rumbling stilled, and I felt his fingers carding my hair slowly. I peeked up at him, and the mood shifted again. His eyes didn't waver but bored into mine, my breath hitched, and any and all conflict was forgotten.

I swallowed and erected myself, caught in his steady gaze. My tongue darted out and warmth seeped through my whole body as he leaned forward and fastened his grip on my head. My hand reached for him as his mouth covered mine, and I felt dazed, not quite believing it was happening. Again. It was soft at first, tentative and gentle, featherlight and tender. My hand travelled up his neck, spreading my fingers in his hair—his soft, beautiful hair. _Jesus_. He opened his mouth in response, the tip of his hot, slick tongue meeting mine, tracing the inside of my lips, and I couldn't suppress a moan. His fingers dug into my skull, twisting my hair almost painfully. He pulled my hand behind his back, leaving it there before releasing his to grab my neck, and the kiss deepened. It was like we'd never stopped, like no time had passed at all. His tongue twirling around mine, somehow creating a direct line to my core, shooting chills and tingles down my spine and waves of heat everywhere else. I wondered why I ever bothered to rinse out my underwear. He broke off with reluctance, leaning his forehead to mine, panting slightly, bathing my face in his breath.

"Wow." He kept his eyes closed, and his voice barely a whisper. "Wow. I've been wanting to do that, well, for about 20 hours, but especially for the last 4." I giggled, caressing his hair lightly and sighed happily. _Wow. I'm so fucked._

"Yeah." I moved in, kissed him lightly before I released my grip and pulled back, proud that I was able to. I was rewarded with a whiny grumble in protest. He opened his eyes, blinked a few times, and gave me a small pout, emphasising his swollen, darkened lips. He sank back with a huff, quickly grabbed my hand again and lifted it, watching me as he inhaled deeply and rubbed against the inside of my wrist. He sent me a glance filled with mischief, and I closed my jaw where I could feel it hanging open. "You promised to take me out, remember?"

"Uh-uh." His face chaste and demure, he nodded while he clasped my hand and licked my fingertips, taking the middle one in his mouth, sucking it without breaking character. I could feel my own tongue twirling in unison with his, and I wriggled around in a pathetic attempt at some relief. He caught the finger lightly between his teeth and grinned widely. "Oh cose." He sucked one last time and let it go with a small pop, his expression a sly mix of smugness and joy. I didn't blame him, I felt the same way, and I had to push away the urge to stick it back in. He shrugged a little closer without giving my hand back, and I left it there while trying to calm myself. Things weren't evolving the way I had anticipated when I'd first seen him, but by now I realised I was unable to predict anything where he was concerned. That it also included some of his family was an even bigger complication. "How about now?"

"Huh?"

"Now. I'd like to take you out." I was still gaping.

"Like now now? Right now?" He grinned, brushing my knuckles with his thumb, turning my hand over, stroking my palm. I shuddered.

"Yeah. Why not?" He stopped and took in his attire, scoffing at himself. "I can shower and change if you prefer, although I did promise casual."

“Er..." My mind raced, and suddenly Alex, Alex and me, Alex the night before, and of course Alex and _his_ damn note flashed through my mind. _Goddammit!_ I wanted to scream, but I couldn't really formulate the reason for my hesitation. He watched me, thoughtful and searching. He drew a short breath.

"If you're concerned about Alex, I'm sure he has plans with his girlfriend tonight." His tone was casual, but to me he could have been shouting.

I didn’t move an inch, I couldn't. My whole body had tensed up, my face rigid, my eyes must have been wide and shocked and something heavy and sickening hit my stomach. As he took me in, his expression changed from easy and teasing to shocked and pained, and I realised he'd not even said it to hurt me, his own reaction was quite clearly not someone with an agenda.

"Oh my god." He let go of my hand and scrunched up his face, gritting his teeth. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

I was still caught mid gasp when I heard the sound of a key in the lock.


	6. Just when I thought I was out.

_Alex and Seb with Chris Evans at the after party of the El Capitan Theatre screening of The Winter Soldier 2014. Photo:[NN](http://lowkeysebastianstan.tumblr.com/)._

I woke up with a start, not knowing where I was at first—the dream had been so vivid, so real, the colours and emotions still burned on my retinas, a warm cocoon still embracing me, I wanted to cry I missed it so much.

The knocking made me flinch, and I realised what had woken me and I cursed silently, already annoyed at whoever it was.

“Live? You there?”

It was a high whisper, obviously not wanting to disturb any of my neighbours, only alert me. I grabbed my phone, it was only 10:30, but it was still a damn long nap, I'd slept for 3 hours. I swung my feet over the edge of the bed and rubbed my face before I got up and started for the door.

“Live?” It sounded like a hand hit the door gently—a sound of resignation. “Fuck.”

It was the _fuck_ that did it, the whisper had filtered out the familiarity, but now it was obvious. I stopped in my tracks to still the rush of blood from my head, steadied myself on the doorframe and shook my head. I could hear the rustling of paper and the scratching of a pen, presumably marking my door and losing my deposit. _Fuck_. I didn't even know who it was. With my heart hammering and sweat breaking on my forehead, I gingerly laid my hand on the knob, not knowing who I wanted to be on the other side. I took a deep breath and jumped in—how bad could it be, right?

I opened the door, and he nearly fell on me, his arms stretched in front of him and I backed into the wall. He landed with one hand on each side of my head, paper and pen still clutched in one, and he was right in my face, looking hilariously shocked, but that was overshadowed by the fact I was looking straight into the bright blue I’d been dreaming of almost every night, and his lips weren’t three inches from mine. That was bad. Really bad. Really, really fucking bad.

“Hi. I didn’t think you were in, so I was writing a note.” He looked up at his hand and crumbled the paper. “But hey. You’re here.” His smile was so genuine I automatically returned it, besides it showed off his lips, another aspect that had featured heavily in my mind for a long time. Well, years if one wants to be technical, but more importantly since the last time I'd seen them this close.

* * *

It had been nearly two weeks, 13 days to be exact, and I'd done my best to put everything out of my mind. I'd not contacted any of them— _well, apart from that one time, but I’d been drunk so let’s not think about that, I’d hung up as soon as it’d started ringing anyway, it didn’t count, he’d not called back_ —so until now they'd both stayed away from me.

And to be fair, who could blame them? They hardly knew me, all I'd been was a passing acquaintance, a disturbing factor in their already complicated lives. And it wasn't like I was worse off, had I disturbed their life, they'd disturbed mine tenfold. I'd been restless and had problems concentrating, which wasn't something I needed so close to my dissertation, and I'd had trouble sleeping. A lot of trouble sleeping. What felt like every night one of them, or occasionally both, had made appearances, most times not helpful at all. Pleasant, yes, more than, but distracting as fuck.

The result had been confusing to say the least, I'd been in a perpetual state of upheaval—anger, hurt, sadness and plain old lust mixing into a stress that bled into my life. But in my defence I had tried to put them behind me, even the horndog in me had recognised nothing good could come out of it. What would either of them bring of worth to my life? Haha.

The last time I'd seen them had been that day, and those memories were the worst part of the whole damn mess. How had it happened, what had I done, what had they done, who even were they? Who even made shit like that occur? Fucking assholes.

From the moment Seb's words had echoed and the key sounded in the lock, everything had been a blur—the panic and shame and anger and hurt and betrayal all battling for my attention, and none came out the winner.

When Alex opened the door he’d let all the air out of the room, the silence had been deafening. Who had had it worse was hard to say, I could only examine my own feelings, but judging by the initial expressions I'd given Sebastian the edge. He looked so hurt, and I'd felt so fucking guilty. Which was rich considering.

Alex had just stood there, looking from one to the other, questioning at first and then chagrined via realisation. He'd been wrong of course, but obviously our indiscretions were more than enough to rip open some wounds between them.

“Seb? Live?” His face had reverted to neutral folds as he entered slowly and the door slid shut behind him. He was obviously expecting disaster but didn't want to set it off. “What's going on?”

No one spoke, it was a bizarre standoff, all of us avoiding the first shot. He'd pocketed his keys, set down the bag he was carrying and shed his jacket and shoes while we were silent spectators to the world's most mundane one-man act.

He'd picked up the bag but didn't move any further into the room, his neutral expression faltering as the mood became unbearably tense. I'd found a point behind him, I couldn't look at either of them, Seb's blurry form was dominating my peripheral vision, but nothing could have gotten me to turn my head the last inch right then.

“Guys?”

It was the pleading tone that finally did it. Suddenly the air came rushing back, and I could feel my extremities again. I let out a long breath, and I met Alex’ eyes for a brief second before looking over at Seb.

“Yeah. I’m gonna go.” He was leaning on the island, hands in his pockets, looking down at the floor.

“What? Why? What’s happening?” He still had an air of confusion, but I couldn’t believe it, he’d revealed too much with his initial reaction. Alex was good, but he was not a world class actor. Or at least I didn’t think so. _He hid his girlfriend well enough. Although it’s not like you were looking for clues._ Hadn’t I though? My gaze darted over to the photo stand, all the pictures were upright, but there was a free space where one had lain face down the day before. Suddenly I was itching to go over and check, I wanted to scream, to throw something in his face.

“I just need to go. It was a mistake coming here.” Seb stood up and started towards the coffee table, not looking at Alex, not looking at me.

“Live?” I’d shaken my head, I’d still been a little dazed, my mouth wasn’t working too well just yet, and I’d just kept watching Sebastian pick up his phone and jacket and move slowly towards the hall.

“Seb! Will you stop?” Alex’ tone was both angry and pleading, and he got a response, although not one he probably wanted.

“Why? I made a mistake. I can’t stay here right now, I don’t want to talk to you, either of you.” Seb sent Alex a seething look while he grabbed the door handle and stopped a moment, collecting himself before he turned around for one last attack.

“I mean it’s one thing to fuck me over. I deserve it, I know. But I thought we'd moved on, I thought we were finished. And this?” He’d clenched his jaw and inhaled sharply. _“Vreau să spun asta? Sigur, dracu 'o fata care imi place, nu e ca si cum ai grija, corect. Dar_ Sophie _? Credeam că ești mai bine decât asta. Credeam că o iubești. Asa de dracu 'tine, Aleksei. Și dacă nu le spui, o voi face.”_

The vitriol was obvious and even if I had no idea what he said, that one word was hard to miss. He pulled the door open and took a step outside, inhaled again, and I braced for another onslaught. But it didn’t come. “Just—fuck you, Aleksei. Fuck you.”

The words were soft, resigned, he seemed to have lost his momentum as he rolled his head once and deflated completely, looking almost confused. He looked past Alex and caught me with a heartbreaking look, and the last I saw was his dejected form as the door closed behind him, taking a small piece of me with him.

* * *

Until now.

The lost piece was back, standing right in front of me, and I hadn’t even begun to process anything. He was here, not a figment of my somewhat vivid imagination, but here. The sparkling blue filling my vision, even brighter than I remembered, the scent of a familiar aftershave. I could touch him, I could hook my fingers into the loops on his jeans, I could do so much, but of course, I wasn’t capable of doing anything at all.

“Sebastian.” He stepped closer, or it could have been a stumble, the end result was the same, the inches had become an inch, and I started to panic. “Seb. What are you doing?”

“Oh damn. I didn’t mean to, I just fell, I was writing you a note. I thought you were out. But I was hoping you’d be here, I want to talk to you. I want to talk to you if you want me to.” He cocked his head and looked down at me, grinning stupidly. “If you want to talk to me that is, I don’t want to presume, it makes an ass out of me.”

I shook my head and ducked under his arms, positioning myself sideways an arm's length away, facing him and watched him carefully. _Well, that was stupid, but fucking go for it, it’s not like you’ve not had this dream._

“You’re drunk.”

He sighed. “Yes, I am.”

“You’re very drunk.”

“Hey, hey. Let’s not exaggerate. Not very. Maybe tipsy, hardly tipsy, nothing more. I've barely touched anything.” He sent me another of those damn looks, the puppy dog™ , innocence incarnate, fuck this. Even with his voice slurred, his eyes glazed over and his cheeks and mouth flushed he looked incredible—his hair a bit longer, falling into his eyes, curling up his at neck, his beard grown in and thicker, and I had to consciously push away how that would feel between my legs. Or my neck. Or my mouth.

_Yeah, fuck this. Fuck that, fuck him, fuck you. Already forgetting what landed you in this mess._

“How much did you drink?”

“Er…”

“Give it to me straight, Sebastian. How much did you have to drink to show up here?” I crossed my arms and rested my head on the wall, but I didn't meet his eyes. I didn’t know until I said it, but I felt vulnerable. I'd dreamt to see him again, but not drunk, looking for a booty call. I stood there, gnawing the inside of my cheek, listening to him shift around beside me. He lifted his hand, counting off as he went.

“Two shots of tequila, one beer, one glass of a really terrible white and a whiskey. Jack, I think.” He sighed and toed the carpet, focusing on one of the abstract shapes that looked like a galloping horse. If you squint real hard, or if you're drunk. _Damn this carpet needs to go_.

“Wow. Yeah. Hardly anything.” He peeked up at me, gauging the severity of the sarcasm and caught my smile and slight eye roll.

He chuckled. “Well, I was nervous. That last shot wasn't the best idea maybe. That one after the Jack.” I rolled my eyes again, giving him what I hoped was a look of strict superiority but I knew the battle was lost. Again.

“Want coffee?”

“Coffee would be great!” He lit up, his smile still tentative, but hopeful.

“Or a gallon of water?” I didn’t really intend for him to hear, it just came out under my breath, but he smiled brilliantly, the tension seeping out already.

“Nah, coffee will be fine. As we just agreed, I’m not drunk.” Did he just wink? The fucker.

But I shook my head with a small laugh of my own, pushed off the wall and lead the way into my “kitchen”, a small corner window with a tiny table underneath, a stove and 3 feet of countertop on one wall, and a fridge and a sink on the other. An old archway separated it from the rest of the room, the stamp-sized “living room” filled to the brim with a loveseat, a small coffee table, a desk under the window and everywhere else filled up with shelves heavy with far too many books. With a pang I remembered another flat with the same problem, but that wasn’t an issue at hand, so I forced it out of my mind. I hit the lights above the oven, and another above the table, it was a sorry sight knowing the standards he was used to, but what could I do? Not like I had some luxury apartment hid inside a closet, and besides, he’d turned up here, and he’d best take what he got. _But what will he get? What does he want?_

I pointed to the good chair, the one that actually had a cushion, and started the kettle.

“Is French pressed okay? I have a maker, but it’ll take longer.”

“Yes, sounds great!” He was twisting around, freeing himself from his coat—a black mid-thigh pea coat that I was sure I'd seen in pictures at some official event or other—and I reached out for it, trying not to notice how his soft blue sweater clung to his torso and showed off the pecs and abs that had no business being defined enough to put themselves on display like that. He shook it out and handed it to me. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” I hung it on my arm while I poured the water in the press to brew, and went to hang it in the hall, checking I was out of view before I dug my nose in and took a deep whiff of the collar. _Fuck_. Yeah, that wasn't the best idea. I wasn't doing myself any favours, but then again, when it came to this man I hardly had the best track record. Twice I'd been alone with him, twice I'd had the self-control of a cat with a hand on its tummy. As on queue, Nimbus peeked around the corner of the bedroom, accusation in his eyes, probably pissed I'd left the bed and left him to heat it himself.

“Live?” We both turned to look towards the kitchen, Nimbus _mrrping_ a question, I hurriedly hanging the coat, disposing of the evidence.

“Yes?” I went back, Nimbus shooting ahead, eager to investigate and determined to act as chaperone, and, as annoying as that could be, he did just catch me sniffing the man's clothes. I turned the corner and almost walked into him, he was standing in the middle of the floor, managing looking a bit lost given the vast choice of two low cupboards.

“I was just looking for a glass, I figured some water wouldn't be such a bad idea.” He sent me a sheepish grin, and I returned one brimming with superiority. I extracted a glass, making sure it was one of the nicer ones, and gave it to him, leaving him the task of actually filling it, before I checked the coffee.

“Oh, the infamous Nimbus himself. In the flesh.” He downed his water and got a refill before he sat down and offered the brat a hand to sniff and butt against.

“Yeah, I forgot you knew about him.” I shot Nimbus a look, he was giving me that “look at me, I knew he likes me better, they always do” spiel, and I wanted to give him a kick. Just a gentle one. I settled for picking him up and giving him a squeeze, hiding my face for a second to recover from the memory of _how_ the man knew about him. After I unceremoniously deposited him on the couch, I found two mugs and poured the coffee, setting them on the table and claimed the remaining chair.

“So.” He busied himself sipping the coffee, nodding his approval before he cleared his throat and met my gaze.

“So.” My eyebrows shot up expectantly, waiting.

“Well. Yes. So I’ve been giving our last meeting some thought.” Another sip. “And I’ve realised it didn’t end quite in the way I wanted. And I’ve come to apologise.’ A weak smile. “Again.”

And the guilt came rushing back.

“Sebastian.” I sighed. “Seb.” Another sigh. “Let's just stop with the guilt trips.”

The weak smile grew stronger, he leaned forward and reached for my hand, stopping a few inches short. “You really think we can do that?”

“I can if you can. We both fucked up.” _We all fucked up. In so many ways._

No more guilt, but that didn't include all though.

* * *

After Seb was gone the silence was back. It was back until I couldn't stand it. I was still in uproar, only I couldn't be. I had to leave, this was not my turf, it had been for a moment but that had passed.

“Alex?” He turned to me, finally wearing a more honest expression—he looked broken, beaten down and I averted my eyes, the pain was too much. “I'm gonna go.” My voice cracked, I wanted to be mad, to not care, but I couldn't help feel some injustice had been served. He nodded slowly.

“Yes.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Yes, I suppose you will.”

“Okay.” I picked up my phone and started gathering up the mugs and mess on the counter.

“Just leave it. I’ll do it.” He crossed his arms, seemingly to protect himself, and despite everything my heart bled.

“Okay.” I set course to the exit, trying not to break into a run, it was too painful to stay there.

“Live?” I stopped involuntary, he was pleading, desperate. I waited, my back towards him.

“What happened?” He swallowed. “What did he say? What did you say?”

I hesitated, not wanting to put words to it. It was ridiculous really, why did I care so much? I'd been kissing Seb not half an hour ago, I wasn't much better. We weren't together, we were nothing really, and hadn't I just made my choice? _Would you have made that choice though, if he hadn't stopped last night? Would there even be a question?_ I hate my brain being insightful, and this was no exception. Truth be told I wasn't sure, not completely, it was a choice I'd not been allowed to make. _But he left you a note. He wants to spend time with you, maybe even as friends, maybe just to spend time with you. But he cheated on his girlfriend. He has a girlfriend_. I didn't have the right to judge, I didn't have the right to ask.

“Who's Sophie?” I braced myself, it would be so much worse to hear it from him. He stared at me for a few seconds, a range of emotions flashing across his face. I thought I could see pain and annoyance, but mostly he seemed resigned, Seb's diatribe had hit him hard.

“She's my girlfriend.” He paused, watching my reaction carefully. I almost trembled from the strain of keeping my composure. “Or she was. Until a week ago, before I left for L.A.” I felt my stomach fall, my knees almost buckled and a wave of relief washed over me. “Seb didn't know, we haven't really talked for a while.”

Another flash of relief, the thought had crossed my mind, but at this point I couldn't even fathom the extent of possible causes of divide between them. He was still gauging me, and I bit my lip to circulate some saliva, who knows how long had I been standing there dumbstruck. I blinked a few time for good measure, and I managed to pluck up some courage.

“Good. I mean, I was hoping…” I searched for words, for meaning, what I needed to say, and what I wanted to. “I mean, I won't pretend… I realise it's none of my business. Even if we…”

He chuckled, a hollow, depressing sound. “Yeah. Even if we…” He inhaled desperately, he clearly wanted to come to the heart of the matter. “But that's not it, is it? Seb knows, right? About us?”

It was framed as a question, but it was a statement, there was no trace of doubt. All I could do was nod, and I found I needed to sit down again, but was unable to move.

“How? Did you just tell him, or…?”

“No.” I shook my head. “No. He mentioned Sophie, and I… Well, I guess he saw it in my face, I was so shocked. I mean, I don't even know why, what we did wasn't much better, not that I owe him anything but I mean, he did apologise, and he invited me out.” I swallowed hard. “And I said yes.” The last part was barely a whisper, but there it was. I'd officially claimed my title as most fickle person in the universe.

He looked at me for an eternity before he bowed his head. “Okay.” And that was it. There was nothing more to say.

I felt empty and spent. My 24-hour whirlwind had culminated in a disaster, it was incredible really. How much could one person really take in terms of high and lows in such a short span of time? How much heartache could one cram in? I willed my body to move, knowing that this, this here, him, his expression, his stance, this was the imprint I'd made, what he would remember me by. He stayed perfectly still as I went to the hall, found my coat, slipped into my boots and gathered up my bag. I took one last look around and turned towards the door and opened it.

“Live?”

I waited, back turned, not daring to take one last look.

“It's not your fault.”

I felt the cold emanate from far down my spine, spread up and chill me. My eyes slammed shut, my lungs tightened and I let out one ragged breath. Then I walked out into the hall, walked down to the elevator, stepped inside and waited for my escape from this place, from this time, from the tears burning in my eyes and from one of the most amazing men I'd ever met. _Yes. Yes, it is_.

* * *

And the other one was here. Sitting across from me, asking forgiveness for nothing at all, the bright blue blinding me just like it had 2 weeks and a lifetime ago. He was there, he'd come to me, and I had to get in or get out. I reached out to meet him and took his hand.


	7. Should he stay or should I go.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and his man Jack.

_Aleksei and Sebastian by[LK](http://mischief-in-mirkwood.tumblr.com/)_

We just sat, both of us watching our hands entwining between us; he dragged his thumb along each of my fingers, I stroked his palm with mine. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just there, and when I finally looked up and met his eyes I was momentarily struck, they were darker, not blown, just darker, _how strange_ , his expression halfway between solemn and teasing. I gave him a small smile, my cheeks a bit hotter, realising he too thought about the last two times our hands had met in that fashion, and I felt the familiar heat spread down.

In my defence, I’d held out for a long time, and I didn’t really blame myself, the man had been here over half an hour and I’d been so torn I’d not even had an internal battle about grabbing his shirt and drag him into bed, tear his clothes off, push him down and have him fuck me into oblivion. But that of course changed now. With a look. A simple fucking look. _Wow. Congrats_.

I cleared my throat, needing a way back into reality. “So.”

“So.” The words were in perfect unison, and we both laughed, a grin breaking out on his face, accentuating his mouth and the crinkles around his eyes, and my breath stopped from the beauty of it. He grinned wider, his tongue dabbed his lips and he confirmed that he knew. Knew the effect it had, and using it to the fullest. Puppy dog my ass.

“No guilt, eh?”

“Yeah. It’s kinda tiresome.” I took a sip of my forgotten coffee and grimaced, it was cold, and even if I needed to clear my head there were limits. I gave his hand a last squeeze, let go and got up, aware of him watching my every step.

“Good. I came prepared to get hit with a fair few choice words, which I deserve after how we left things.” I heard him lean back, and his tone was light, but his voice was low. I was glad my back was turned, and I continued with my task while I searched for a response.

“Well, that wasn’t all you. I mean, I did screw your—you over too. A little.” I tossed him a look, not really wanting to see a reaction before making an effort to save the situation. “I’m sorry. The guilt thing is gone, I swear.” I wondered if it sounded as false as it was. It was a nice sentiment and I wanted to believe it—but who was I even trying to kid? The elephant would need to be addressed at some point, pretty as he was, and my chest constricted just thinking about it. Which was the reason I didn't.

He swirled his almost empty glass, drained it and avoided me until he rose and came over, swerving only a little. He stopped right in front of me, reached behind me and turned on the faucet, running the water until it was cold. I couldn’t think of anything to say so I just returned his gaze, searching for some sign of accusation and found none.

I stared while he drank the whole thing in one go, his Adam's apple bobbing, a small drop of water running down and catching in his beard. I had to clutch my hands to resist reaching up and wipe it off, or rather kiss it off, imagining how it would feel against my lips— _is it as soft as it looks_ —and his lips were glistening, I could feel the warmth emanating from him, see his chest moving, his breath caressing my forehead and I registered that I, as per fucking usual, wasn't breathing properly.

“You're so fucking pretty.”

My jaw dropped, and I realised my reverie hadn't gone unnoticed. _Fuck. Fuckity fucking fuck._

“So pretty.” His eyes roamed over me, top to bottom, taking in my hair in a messy bun—why hadn’t I at least taken out the tie and shaken it out before I opened the door—my faded Ziggy shirt and my cosy, far too big flannel pyjama bottoms. _And the tattered wool socks, let’s not forget them_. A new surge of heat spread out, flushing my chest and face. He lifted his hand, tracing my cheek with a finger, leaving a scorching trail behind. _He’s still drunk, he’s still drunk, he’s still drunk… Is he though?_

“I’m not sleeping with you.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, and for a split second he was taken aback, he clearly hadn’t expected the outburst.

“You think that’s why I came?”

“Isn’t it?”

“I don’t have to drink to dare make a booty call.” His eyes twinkled and left me no doubt he was right. _Fuck_. “Not that I’d mind.” His voice dropped 5 octaves, and I shivered. “I wouldn’t mind at all.” His hand was up again, just hovering indecisively, and I was unable to look away, completely lost in him, if he touched me I’d crumble like a dry leaf, and I felt he knew too.

“I love your place!” He cleared his throat, and I finally exhaled, grateful for the save.

I leaned back on the counter, taking in the view, letting the kettle do its job. “Yeah. As much style and space money can rent.”

He ignored the sarcasm and walked over and peeked into the living room.

“I’m serious. It’s great. Excellent location too, what, 2 minutes from the train?”

“Uh-uh. Yeah. Location, location, location. Also. Rent controlled.”

“Very nice. How did you manage that?

“My mom. It belongs to a friend of hers. Inherited the lease after her mother.”

“Lucky.” He nodded in appreciation. “And I think I passed a Starbucks, uh, half a block back.” He grinned widely, watching my expression shift from mock serious to flushed and teasing.

“Yeah. My primary hunting ground. All kinds of easy prey there.”

He cackled and disappeared behind the wall. _Bastard_. I could hear him walking around, so I finished up, set the new batch to brew and followed him, not wanting to risk him finding anything incriminating, I knew for a fact there might be some magazines with his face on the cover lying around, but I was fairly sure they were out of immediate view. He was perusing my shelves, his fingers running over books and movies, stopping at the meagre music collection I’d been able to keep. I would’ve had all my music in physical copies if I could, but alas.

“Good collection.” He pulled out my Nina Simone box set, causing another cd to fall out. I stepped forward, but he picked it up and smiled before he held it up. The Winter Soldier OST. Of course.

“Yeah? What of it? It’s an excellent piece of music?”

He turned it around in his hand, smirking, and I wanted to slap him. Well, stroke him. Well, push him down on the couch an— _Right. Snap out of it. He’s catching you out, and you’re turned on by it. Jesus, woman._

“Uh-uh.” He put it back on the shelf with the Nina, still grinning widely. How the fuck did this happen? Suddenly he had the high ground again?

“Hey. Don’t come into my house and start in on my music. I’ll have you know that Henry Jackman is an extremely talented composer that I’ve followed through his whole career, and that is just one of his vast collection of masterpieces…” It was a losing battle, and I just trailed off, there was no talking myself out of it. Henry Jackman, awesome as he is, had never been the reason for that particular piece finding its way into my home.

Shaking with laughter he bent down and gave Nimbus, who had followed the whole exchange with lazy interest, a scratch behind his ear, and the little traitor had the gall to rise and arch and strut his tail while looking at me with a satisfied “I like this guy, why are you being hard on him” look. Little shit.

“He likes me at least.” He gave him a last soft wriggle and erected himself, stumbled and hit the bookcase behind him that wobbled slightly. “Fuck.”

I ran over and held on to him, leading him to the front of the couch and pushed him down, Nimbus streaking off in a spurt of panic— _good riddance_ —and left him while I straightened the case. “You okay?”

He looked up at me, dazed. “Yeah. That damn Jack.”

I shook my head and smirked, a bit smug to have gained the upper hand. “Another water?”

“Yeah.” He fell back and looked up at me. “And an aspirin?”

I patted him lightly on the head, _damn his hair is soft_ , and went into the kitchen, found the box in the cabinet, filled his glass, brought it back and sat down next to him, as far away as the small space would allow. “Here.”

“Thanks.” He fished two pills out, popped them in his mouth and drank greedily, me taking in the whole process again. He sat the glass down with a small clink and laid back and looked at me pleadingly, a performance if I ever saw one, and I rolled my eyes at him. “Oh, come on. Don’t you feel a little sorry for me?”

“No.”

“But I feel terrible.” He tipped his forehead at me. “Maybe it’s not even the drinks, I think I’m really sick.” His mouth curled down, the puppy dog on full display

“Oh my god, you’re pathetic.”

He gave me a weak grin. “But I’m also feeling very bad.” He reached out, took my hand and squeezed it, pulling me closer. “And I need some TLC.”

“You’re fucking hopeless.” I lifted my arm and with a groan he plumped down into my lap, settling in with a hand under his cheek.

“And you’re fantastic.” I tried to still the erratic thumping in my chest, this wasn’t what I’d signed up for, and the weight and sight of him made me dizzy. I carded his hair gently, stroked it away from his stupidly pretty face, watched his ridiculous lashes flutter and the corner of his mouth curl in satisfaction.

“Mmmmm. That feels nice.” He sounded so content, and I didn’t know what to do. I dropped back, my hand still in his hair, and he became even heavier and managed to fold his legs into fetal position, stupid big feet hanging off the end. _Fuck_.

This was not the plan. Not that there really was a plan in place, but had there been this wouldn’t have been it. I kept caressing his hair, and his breathing became lower and steadier as mine went the opposite direction. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. What are we doing? We can’t do this. This will not end well_. The flirt and tease was something I’d come to expect, but this was a different ballgame, this was way out of my league. _He just needs to rest a little. He’ll get up soon. We’re fine. We’re fine. You can do this, it’s just Sebastian Stan on your lap, no biggie, you've fucked him for fuck’s sake, this isn’t so bad._

But it was. The stakes had risen, and suddenly there was a lot more on the table than a coffee and casual sex. _But he’s already asked you out, and you accepted. Yes, but that was two weeks ago, it kinda made sense—well, not really, oh my god, I can’t do this_. I was nearing a full blown panic attack as the minutes snailed along, I kept checking the clock on the desk, it was blinking, _tick tick tick_ , making me even more stressed. After almost an hour, so tense that my neck was on the verge of breaking, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I tugged at his hair, grabbed his shoulder and shook him lightly.

“Seb?” He burrowed his face in my lap. _Great. Awesome_. “Seb. Seb”

“Hngg.”

“Seb. Hey. Sebastian.” I leaned down into his ear, blowing carefully. “Se-eb.”

“Whaaa?” I grinned at the petulant groan.

“You have to wake up. I need to pee, and I’m not wetting myself on your account.” I shook him again. “This couch is a priceless antique.”

“Whaa?” He lifted his head an inch. “Antique?” He turned and looked up at me, squinting, his face innocent and confused. “What?”

“You need to get up. My legs are numb, I need to pee, and I want to go to bed.”

“Huh?” He rolled over, his arm shielding his eyes. “Oh fuck. I fell asleep. I’m so sorry.” He peeked up at me, squinting. “But really, it’s your fault, it’s very comfortable.”

“Oh fuck off.” I finally got my arm under him and hoisted him off me, and he grudgingly obliged.

“Fuck. What time is it?”

“It’s almost one. In the am.”

“Huh. That’s not that late. I should really lie down a bit longer.” He started tipping sideways again, and I poked him in his ribs.

“Oh no, you don’t.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

I got up and held out my hand to him. “Come on.”

He sighed. “Okay, fine.” He stood up and immediately fell back down, pulling me with him in a tangle of limbs. “Oofff.” _Fuck me he smells good_. The faint scent of alcohol only enhanced the smell of soap and cologne, and I had to force myself to react in a decent manner. _Shit_. I sorted myself and got up again.

“I’m drunker than I thought.”

 _Oh fuck it_. I extended my arm again, this time I made sure to support him, and he managed to stand even if he swayed a little.

“Fuck me, I didn’t mean to get this drunk. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” I held on and hauled him with me along the corridor, each step a struggle. I opened the bathroom and shoved him in. “Do your business and come out, I need to get in there too.”

I closed the door behind him and went into the kitchen, my legs shaking, I wasn’t sure if it was just stiffness or the fact that my pulse was 450. I leaned on the kitchen counter, rested my head at the cabinet and saw the forgotten coffee. Dammit. It was expensive coffee. Good coffee. _Shit. Okay, really bad idea. But you can’t just send him home. Why not. He’s a grown man. Call an uber and get it done with. Yeah. He can deal with that. It’s not like you invited him. He can take responsibility for his actions._

I heard the toilet flush and the water running, his steps uneven on the tile. _Okay. You can do this. You got this. Get him out_. I heard him fumble at the door and went back and met him when he got out, still wobbling, looking dazed and totally helpless.

“Live?” He sounded near death. _Oh for fuck's sake_.

“Yeah. C’mere, you big lunk.” I tucked myself under his shoulder and led him into the bedroom, positioned him at the end, ripped the innermost duvet to the side and started pulling his sweater off, trying to hold his t-shirt down, no need to make it harder than it had to be. I groaned in frustration as he kept tugging at it, slapping his hands away, I knew with my state there was no way I could afford him to be shirtless too.

“I knew you wanted to get my clothes off.” He grinned as he finally gave up, lifted his arms and shrugged out of the sweater, t-shirt still attached, it was really fucking snug and more or less glued to his skin, and I knocked him over, smirking when he hit the wall a little. “Oww.”

“Shut up, you big baby.” I started in on his shoes as he lay there, watching me, his teeth worrying his lip, and I considered if it was punishable to jump him right there. _Fuck my life_. I dropped his shoes, reached up and ripped his fly open and his expression made it all worth it. “Shut up.” I got back up and started shimmying his jeans off as he arched up and helped the process, his face reverting back into an annoying smirk. I averted my gaze as his boxers emerged, a little crooked on one side where the jeans had caught, and he chuckled.

“I thought you said you didn’t want to have sex with me.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to, I said I’m not going to.” I finished with the jeans and dropped them on the floor with his shoes and sweater. “There’s a difference.”

He grinned wider. “So you want to?”

“In your state?” I raised my brows at him. “No, dearie, that would constitute sexual assault. You’re in no condition to consent.”

“Yes, I am!”

“No, you’re not. And”—I grinned right back—“even if you were, you’re not able to.”

“You’re welcome to find out.” He tried for a calculating look, falling just short because he tried to get up on his elbows and dropped right back down. “I can just lie here, and you can have your way with me.”

I threw the blanket over him, not wanting to look at him, he was too close for comfort, and I really didn’t think it would look good on my resume to have him file charges later, his legal team might be too much for mine to handle. _You only know one lawyer. Think he would help? Oh just shut up. Seriously, just shut up, don’t go there_. With an effort I shoved the thought out of my mind, I really didn’t have the energy. _Shit_. I left his drunken ass there and went to the bathroom, furious at myself, I’d really screwed myself over. _Shit, shit, shit_.

I took my time, hoping he’d be asleep when I got back. I brushed my teeth and my hair, washed my face and stood for a long time collecting myself before I dared go back in there. _Okay. It’s okay. It’s one night. Nothing’s gonna happen. He’ll be gone tomorrow. Yeah, he will. Probably_. The thought was more depressing than I wanted to contemplate, I’d not really processed the fact he was there at all. I inhaled deeply, mentally kicked my ass and went back.

He was lying on his side, splayed out over half the bed of course, but his breath was low and even. _Thank the lords for small mercies_. I cursed the gods that I hadn’t been able to fit a king in there, although knowing my luck it probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway. I slid carefully under the cover and lay on the edge, not touching him, not wanting to disturb him. It was an unmitigated success for about 10 seconds, then his arm snaked around me, pulled me close and he lay flush at my back, breathing evenly into my shoulder while my heart did the fucking macarena. _Well, that’s just great_.

I lay there in the dim light, body tense, midriff churning, trying to empty my mind of him and just as I started drifting off I realised with a pang why I’d thought his eyes were too dark.


	8. What constitutes a date really?

__

_He’s still here_. The light jostling of someone laying down carefully behind me woke me up, and I had to force my eyes open to face the world. I didn’t want to, I was dead tired, the whole night had been spent in a perpetual state between dream and reality. I’d been too conscious of the arm around me, the hot puffs of air on my neck, the excess heat his body generated and the fact that I had to almost cling to stay in bed because, of course, he was a cuddly sleeper and I’d been inched towards the edge all night. My whole body had been reduced to a quivering knot, and I was afraid that if I moved, I would uncoil and propel myself across the room.

But also because my mind had been reeling, flicking between two sets of eyes, two sets of lips, reiterating past indiscretions, and I couldn’t really comprehend why I _cared_. Fuck. _Maybe you didn’t expect it to be him._ Maybe not. Seb had been so mad when he’d left, I’d been sure he’d never want anything to do with me again, and I’d started to make my peace with it. _Maybe you didn’t want it to be him._ No. That wasn’t it. My gut contracted at the thought. No matter how taken aback and confused and, yeah, annoyed I’d been, I didn’t regret him coming, not yet anyway. _You’re afraid to make a choice. But I’ve already made it._ Or it was already made for me. Sebastian came, _he_ didn’t. _Would you rather it’d be—NO!_ I didn’t, I was sure of that. The bed jostled again, and I tried to breathe normally, maybe I could stay in my blanket burrito a little while longer, maybe I didn’t have to start my day wi—

* * *

“Good morning.” His voice was low, a bit raspy, and it hit all the right notes. _Damn_. He also sounded downright chipper and I hated him for it, he could at least have the decency to be hung over after all that. A finger poked my shoulder carefully, barely a nudge through my protective padding. “Live?” I groaned, and he put a bit more force behind it. “Liveee.” He sighed. “I know you're awake.”

I turned around, still encased in my duvet fortress, protecting me from all bad things, including, but not limited to, world-famous cheeky stupid goddamn beautiful actors that may or may not be the source of endless frustrations and in my bed. With me. I kept my eyes closed for good measure, I was sure nothing could top the feeling of hearing his voice in my bed. I gathered up some courage and peeked out from under my cocoon and my heart fell. I was wrong.

He was lying half on his side, his head resting on his arm, looking at me, an annoyingly happy expression on his stupid face. Such a stupid face, eyes sparkling, his perfect stupid mouth, red as fuck and extremely lickable, curled up into a teasing smile, his hair damp, and I wanted to punch him. _You’re so fucked._

“What time is it?” It was more of a groggy yawn than a sentence, and he met my eyes rather overbearingly and actually clicked his tongue at me.

“Tsk, tsk.” He ran his fingers across my temple and pushed the hair away, making sure I had no blood in my head to work with. _Great_. “Are you gonna greet me with that every morning?”

 _Every morning_. Even lying under the cover I was sure he’d be able to pick up on the increase in pulse and the heat that radiated from me. I blinked and his face softened, not helping the matter at all.

“There’s coffee.”

“What?”

“I made coffee.”

“When?”

“When I got up. After I showered.”

“When—How—”

“It’s 9:45.” He kept stroking my hair, and I really couldn’t get my head working. “I’ve been up since 7:30.” _Oh, wow. This just keeps getting better._

“Why didn’t you wake me?” _Why didn’t you go home?_ I was trying to get a handle on myself, l really was, but for some reason seeing him made it even more unbelievable.

He stilled his hand and just rubbed a strand of my hair absentmindedly. “Because you’re extremely cute when you sleep.” He stopped, and his hand fell down on my cheek and he left it there for me to panic over. “So cute.” He gazed at me for 10 million seconds before he drew a sharp breath and shook his head, emerging from his reverie as I came rushing back from mine. “And because I could hardly breathe or see anything.”

“Huh?”

“I needed some antihistamines. Your cat, the great Nimbus—he loves me by the way, I’m totally his favourite person—tried to kill me.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes. I’m usually fine, but he apparently decided on sleeping on my head some time during the night. That’s what woke me up.” He smirked. “That and the atomic headache Jack and his friends brought.” That finally coaxed a grin out of me, and I shifted enough for my head to emerge from the smothering heat.

“I’m sorry about the cat.” I tucked the duvet under my arm and the pillow under my head. “Not about the Jack though.” He grinned widely. “And to be fair to Nimbus, you were in his spot.”

“Well, it’s deserved then.” He shrugged a little closer. Too close. “On both counts.” His eyes were blinding, and his breath swept over my face, all mint and toothpaste with a hint of coffee—how did anybody do that after a binge, and why was he fresh and clean and awake while I lay there hardly animate? _Fuck this guy in particular._ So annoying. _Fuck me, he’s so pretty._ I squirmed slightly and he grinned with a slip of lip between his teeth, and I was done for. I groaned and rolled over on my back, muttering a few choice expletives, covering the flush with my arm. Fairly good going though, I must have begun developing a natural immunity, only 600 more years until I could start acting like a human person around them. _Him. Around him_.

He sat up, braced himself on his elbow, and looked down at me, still grinning. “So.”

“Yes.” My arm muffled the sound, but I was sure he could hear me. _Bastard_. I hated myself, I really did.

“Are we just gonna stay in bed all day?” He took my hand and tugged a little so I could catch his eyes. “Because that would be fine by me.” I rolled my eyes at the smugness.

“You fucking wish.”

“Yes. I do.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Or I could take you out for breakfast.” The words had a hint of the same ridiculous insecurity as when he had asked me out for dinner and I was thrown. I met his eyes and he averted his, his cheeks an extremely becoming pink tint. I stared at him and finally managed to squeak out an answer.

“Okay.”

Relief washed over his features and he scooted down a little and rolled over me to get out of bed, relieving me of my literal security blanket as he went.

“Great!” He extended his hand, and I took it in a bit of a haze. “Let’s get you ready, and we can go.” He mercilessly pulled me up, made sure I had my feet working before he dragged me to the bathroom and mimicked my treatment of him the night before. “I’ll just have some more coffee while I wait.”

He closed the door behind me, and I stood stunned for a few minutes, trying to process the whole development. I didn’t know what I had expected when I let him stay, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. In some ways it’d been so much easier had he just pushed for sex, we were in date land now and I felt almost sick. _Shit_. I started undressing, saw the towel he had used and fought with myself to not to bury my face in it. Good grief. I was a fucking mess, but at least I was woman enough to admit it, and with that consoling thought I was able to get my body working again. _See? You’re fine, it’s fine, what could ever go wrong here?_ I undressed and got in the shower, expelling any and all visual suggestions that the floor was still wet because someone had been naked there only minutes before. I was fine.

* * *

When I emerged, clean and reasonably functional, I stood for a minute and listened to his exchange with the cat in the kitchen. Apparently there was a disagreement going on, and I smiled despite the dull tension I couldn't quite beat away.

“No. You can’t have any more, she’ll get mad all your treats are gone. And she’ll be mad at me, not you, because you’re a cat.” Poor guy. That cat could canoodle anyone into anything, and I suddenly remembered that the man was allergic and why was he even engaging with him? With a lungful of air I went into the kitchen.

“How are you boys doing?” I reached up for a mug as I entered, but stopped when I saw he’d already set one out for me, the smell of fresh coffee wafting up from it.

“We’re doing great!” He scratched the little traitor on his head, he was still on the treat offensive and was making a pitiful display of himself. “And you look great.”

I shook my head at him and sipped the lovely caffeine, wanting to down the whole carafe, trying to think of something to say, something cool and clever and fabulous, something that could distract me from the way my skin tingled as he ran his eyes over me .

“You shouldn’t give him attention.” _That’s the stuff. You’re on fire._

“But he wants it.”

“And you’re allergic.”

“And have taken my medicine.” He grinned and picked up the cat, holding him in front of his face, the apex predator hanging like a wet rag, and my heart filled with warmth. _Oh boy_. “It’s fine.” He put him down again and wiped his hands. “As long as I don’t get it in my eyes, I’m totally fine.”

“But every surface in this apartment is covered in cat.” Nimbus chirped and pressed against me, clearly shaken he’d let himself be treated in such an undignified manner, but to be honest I didn’t feel that sorry for him. I gave him a cursory pat and he flicked his tail and stalked out with a promise to smother me the next time the AC stopped working. At least it would be winter soon. I sank down on the other chair, still sipping my coffee, still trying to collect myself.

“So are you saying I shouldn’t come here?” His tone was playful, but there was still an edge to it, and I felt compelled to reassure him.

So stupid. He’d come here drunk, I’d taken him in, put him in bed with me, and that wasn’t even mentioning that I’d fucked him within the first 2 hours of knowing him and kissed him the second time we’d met. How the fuck would he still be insecure?

“No, I’m saying, don’t handle the cat, and wash your hands after you invariably do.”

He grinned and held his mug up in a toast. “So you’re saying I should come.”

“I’m saying nothing of the sort, I’m saying that you said we'd go for breakfast, and I got dressed and everything.”

“You’re totally saying I should come.” He held up the carafe, offering me a refill.

I held my mug out, eager for both the content and the distraction, the implications resonating in my head. “I'm not saying you shouldn't.”

I concentrated on my drink, and he was mercifully silent for a few beats. _He wants to come here. He wants to be here._ Damn. _He wants to be here with you_. I felt my lips curl, and he shifted, causing me to glance at him and the thought sunk in. Fuck. My cheeks were burning, and I couldn’t get the goddamn grin off my face. No matter my trepidations, I had to admit that his interest wasn’t one of them. _Sebastian Stan. Sebastian fucking Stan_.

“So cute.” The satisfied grin would be annoying, but right then I didn’t much care. I emptied my mug and set it down as he did the same, and he leaned back and nudged my knee with his. “So. Shall we?” He got up, reached for my hand again and I grabbed it, my skin sizzling only a little and I didn’t even make a weird noise. Very nice.

He led me out to the hall and dropped into the bathroom to wash his hands while I got dressed.

“Was it cold when you got here last night?”

“A little. But we’re not going far.” He joined me and shrugged into that delicious-smelling coat, that was the only disadvantage of having him here, he’d only had my soap and not his own, and I already missed the smell of it on him, the fresh scent of citrus verbena, it had become a starring feature even in my dreams.

“What?”

“Yeah, I google. I can google and find a decent place.“

“You googled for breakfast possibilities while I was asleep?”

“Well, yeah. I was all alone for hours. Why? Do you mind?”

“No. Not at all. There are several good places around here.”

“And I decided on the perfect one.” He tied his own scarf, and tucked mine more snugly around my neck, his fingers brushing my chin and I gasped silently. _Yeah, not all the way there yet are we_. He stopped and rubbed his thumbs along my jaw, watching me as one brushed my lip. “Damn.”

He leaned in and kissed me carefully, his tongue barely trailing my lip, and I couldn’t hold back a whimper when I allowed myself to exhale. He smiled while he covered my mouth and put some force into it, my arms finding his shoulders, his neck and his hair. My mind went all sorts of places—90% of which had us naked and sweating, the last 10 involving sunsets and starlit skies in addition to the naked. And sweating. My mind tried, but the tension had to divert somewhere. I moaned loudly and I was back against the wall, panting into his mouth. He pulled my scarf down to reach my neck, finding the spot behind my ear and his nose was in my hair and suddenly I was digging my nails into his scalp, all of my resolutions discarded. Fuck. With a massive offensive strike my mind managed for once to break through the front lines, I pushed him back and he fell slack on my shoulder, laughing.

“Fuck.” I tipped back for air and joined him with a giggle of my own, some tension finally resolved, the taste of mint and coffee and him in my mouth.

“Yeah. Fuck.” He stepped back and brought me along, straightened my scarf, grinning widely, lips shiny and swollen _and fuck me and my life_. He leaned in for a soft peck but had the good grace to ignore the way my hands started for his head again and just scooped my hair from my collar and looked at me, his eyes shining brilliantly. “I don’t want to be an ass, but I really want to take you out for breakfast.”

I rolled my eyes at him and fumbled for the knob, shaking my head but there was no doubt, I was bordering on happy. _Huh_.

I locked the door, and as we set off down the hall he fished out a cap and some sunglasses from his pocket. I stared at him.

“You’re not serious.”

“What?”

“That.” I pointed to his hat.

“What? It’s more practical.” He pushed his hair back and stuck the stupid thing on.

“More conspicuous.”

“No, it’s a disguise.”

“That’s not a disguise.”

“I’ve used it for years.”

“Exactly. Which makes it not so much a disguise, but a fucking red flag.”

“I’ll have you kn—”

“It’s not. Give people some credit.”

“For what?”

“For having eyes.”

“What gives it away?”

“Looking at it.”

He stopped and sighed. “Really?”

“Sebastian. You wore it the first time I met you. It made no difference. Have you ever managed to not get recognised with that thing on?”

“Sure. Many times, people don’t—” He stopped and looked at me. “Besides, you saw me without the hat first.” He sounded almost triumphant. “So that doesn't count. So people in general don—”

I rolled my eyes. “No. That’s because they leave you alone. Which, I’m sure, also happens occasionally when you’re not wearing that.”

He opened his mouth and I put my hand over it. “You look completely ridiculous with that hat mid-winter with a thick coat. If you want a hat, at least get a beanie.”

“It's not winter. It's still fall!”

“I'm talking about the temperature. It's fucking cold.”

An exaggerated sigh. “Fine.”

“Good.” I waited until he’d stuffed that thing back to where it came from, thank god, and he started moving, his jaw still set stubbornly. I looked at his glasses, and, shamefully enough, I recognised them: a reflective Thom Browne number that made me want to shed my clothes where I stood. I elbowed him lightly. “You can keep the shades.”

“Really?” He sent me a curious look as we turned into the stairwell.

“Yeah.” I hoped he couldn’t read my expression.

He slid them on as we came down to the door, grinning widely. The hope died. “Great!”

I felt my legs clench at the sight. _Yeah. Great_.

The weather was nice, clear and chill air but we were dressed well enough. We walked at a relaxing pace, me pointing out buildings and establishments of interest, to be fair there wasn't a lot but the conversation felt good, less loaded with meaning. What wasn't good was the fact that our hands were near enough to touch and I was torn, I wanted my hand in his, but it was too soon, too dangerous. I was at the end of my tether when we arrived and surprised when I realised how short a distance it had been.

His extensive research had resulted in Infinitea, a cosy cafe/bakery, advertising breakfast between 8 am and noon. I'd never been there, it was a bit more upscale than my usual haunts, but not fancy. Just more… expensive. He held the door for me and a pleasant warmth greeted us. It smelled amazing. The counter was filled with freshly baked goods, croissants, bagels, buns, doughnuts, cakes, bread in all variants and sizes, waffles on the counter and a stack of pancakes that should be ashamed of the syrup dripping down, oozing out on the plate, making a goddamn mess, and why was I getting turned on? I hadn’t really felt hungry since the day before, for food anyway, but the sights and smell reminded me of how ravenous I really was.

He steered me towards a table by the window, pulled out my chair and held my coat as I shrugged out of it, a positively angelic expression at least telling me he didn’t seriously succumb to a 19th-century persona when he was out in public with a woman. Which was both hilarious and kinda cute. Sure, the raging feminist inside me bristled at my regression, but I ignored her thoroughly, told her to suck it and just enjoy the moment. He hung my coat and watched me with a smile as he stuffed his goddamn fuckable glasses into his goddamn fuckable coat and sent me a comically smug look as he deciphered my reaction. Why was every single motion designed to make my midriff boil and my head fuzzy? Any and all resolutions went steadily out the window as I got a good look at him in the blue sweater snug around him, his jeans skinny and showing off far too much, why did he have to be so fucking likeable in addition to everything else? _Fuck my life_. I tried for something annoyed, but I could feel my eyes were just as twinkling as his, and I couldn’t deny the stupid surge of happiness as I grinned back. _Fuck his life too_.

He hung the coat on the back of his chair with a flourish and, knowing full well I was enjoying the sights, leaned on the back and looked me dead in the eye. _Fuck him so much_. I ignored the little peep that agreed heartily with the sentiment. _All in good time, stay in the moment, all good things come to those who wait._

“So. What do you want?”

_I want to see you spread out on my bed, I want to watch you when I crawl up. I want to smell the skin on the inside of your thighs. I want to watch you watch me when I sink my face into your dripping cunt. I want to lick and suck until you scream, I wan—_

“Live?”

“What?”

“Did I lose you there?”

“No, no, I’m sorry.” _They’re just words for fuck’s sake. What do you want. What do you want. They’re normal words, people use them, people have used them since. Just words, don’t mean anything. Yeah, but hearing them from him is different. But he didn’t even say them. You said them_. I knew I was staring, and I knew he would soon shift to wary instead of bemused, but looking at him didn’t help calm the flash, just his eyes veered me off kilter. Not him, but close enough.

“I really lost you there a second, huh?” He seemed self-conscious, which was strange, I knew it wasn’t himself he was conscious of. _Well, shit. Really? Are we doing this NOW?_ I blinked, and I saw him again: fresh, all eagerness and charm, all pretence pushed away, as far as I could tell anyway, he seemed completely and utterly invested in the moment, and what the fuck was I even doing?

“I want everything.” I didn’t really intend the innuendo, but alas with him there pretty much everything could be, especially since I celebrated my reality check by running my eyes over him. Again.

“Yeah?” The awkwardness passed, and we resumed positions, the verbal sparring already established as the default.

It was natural, maybe too much so. It shouldn’t be this easy, it’d never been this easy. I’d known him for three days, and that was being very generous, unless we counted the hours drooling over gifs and pics online, but why the fuck should we bring that into the mix at this juncture, things were well and properly complicated enough, and I _knew_ him. _You don’t though. Shhh. Let me have this right now._

“Yeah.” The playful sparkle was back, and he held out his hand and I took it, it was cool and soft, fit perfectly around mine and I suddenly regretted not wearing layers. Fuck. He lead me over to the counter and we studied the menu and the specials board, currents feeding goosebumps up my arm, down my spine and beyond. Obviously beyond, but I’d given up any pretence of self-control. To myself anyway, I was still holding out hope he wouldn’t notice.

I was still taking in the choices and was about to turn and confer with him when I felt him stiffen behind me. I froze myself as he dropped my hand and let out a soft “fuck” under his breath. I peeked at him, half worried, half afraid, and when I saw him roll his head in exasperation and draw a deep breath I became aware of the excited voices behind us. _Uh oh. Shit_.

Why it hadn’t occurred to me before I really had no good explanation on, it just hadn’t. He’d always seemed so relaxed, apart from the discussion about his hat, and, well, how we’d met, I’d not experienced any of those complications when I’d been with him. He was so open and unguarded when we were together, for about half the time anyway. The whole fame thing was a hypothetical thing that he’d talked about but didn’t concern me. _Also, you’re an idiot, you’ve spent how much time online mooning over him, of course, you can come upon your fucking peers_. So I wasn’t prepared. I felt fear trickle down my back and replace all the happy I had banked on keeping for a while. A good while.

The whispers were low and urgent. “No, don’t.”

“Yes, I’m sure he w—”

“No, we can’t, it’s not right.”

I wholeheartedly agreed with the male voice, and I was certain Sebastian did too.

“Shhh. Let go.”

I felt someone carefully encroach the space between us, and I took a step aside, really hoping to be left out of it. _Shit_. He turned to acknowledge the woman, probably going for the easiest route.

“Excuse me. Can I ask yo—”

“I’m sorry. I’m not—” _Did he just?_ All his attention was on her, but I was sure I didn’t misheard him. _Did he really just? So it is really something he does. And he’d even do it in front of me. Huh_. I couldn’t decide how I felt about it, but the exchange became so fascinating that I shoved the thought back for a fun revisit later.

“No, I’ll be really quick.” She drew her breath, and I felt her male companion sigh behind me. “Listen. Here. This is a picture of our daughter, she’s 6 and a bit shy, and she’s afraid of her surgery on Monday and Bucky is her absolute favourite superhero and I just—” The air thinned and became bearable again. I peeked over at Sebastian and saw all the tension had left his face, replaced by friendliness and ease.

“Aww. look at her, she’s wonderful.”

The woman relaxed and the man shuffled closer.

“Thank you.” It felt like she was elbowing the man ‘I told you so’. “So what I was wondering was, if it’s not too much trouble, could I record a small message to her? To encourage her a little?”

Sebs face lit up further, and again my heart did that little double jump, not from lust, just from being around him, whatever his mood it was just so… catching. Also he looked stunning. Duh.

“Of course!” He readied himself as she trained her phone on him. “What’s her name?”

“Mina. Her name is Mina.”

“Pretty.” He looked straight into camera, sending her a questioning look and she nodded. “Hi Mina! My name is Sebastian. I hear you have surgery for”—he threw her mum a glance and she mouthed “tonsils” and he continued— “taking out your tonsils, and that you’re a bit scared. I understand it is scary, but you can eat a lot of ice cream afterwards! And do you know what Bucky does when he’s scared? He brings a little charm in his pocket, and it protects him and gives him courage, and that way he can easily take out the bad guys. Or remove his tonsils.” He stuck his hand in his pocket and withdrew a quarter. “This is Bucky’s special coin, and now you can have it”—he rubbed it a little and held it out for the mum—“to help you be brave. That's all a superhero needs to be! I know you'll be alright, and I’ll be thinking about you!” He produced the happiest grin I’d ever seen on a man, and the woman sent one back at him.

“Oh my god, that was wonderful. Thank you so much.” She held her hand out and he shook it, still smiling.

“Oh, please. It was the least I could do.” He looked over to the dad. “I hope she gets over the worst of it.”

The man stepped forward and offered his own hand. “Thank you. I’m sure she will. Now.” He shook heartily, and I felt even warmer, it was so genuine. I suddenly realised there were a lot of people who didn’t spend their days ogling him, but just loved him for him and the roles he played. _Huh_. I looked at the mum. _Oh. Not her. She’s an ogler. Like me_. I sent her a small smile, and I could tell she knew I’d seen her expression. She grimaced a little and moved her gaze back to her husband, shrugging pleasantly. Good on her. She didn’t even seem jealous. _Nice_.

They moved to go, and then the man hesitated. “I don’t suppose…” He held up his own phone and Seb laughed a little.

“Of course.” He reached for it and the man obliged, looking a little confused, but Seb just held it out to me. “Live, if you would.”

“Oh. Of course!” I found the camera app, and they both stepped into Seb’s arms and smiled brilliantly as I snapped three pics, my hands were shaking so bad I hoped at least one of them would come out okay. As I handed the phone back to profuse thanks, Seb gave the woman a hug and shook the man's hand one last time, all the while looking at me, his eyes curious. I smiled in response, trying to hide the shortness of breath and how sweaty my palms suddenly had become. I was not prepared. _Fuck_.

We got seated eventually, and the food was fucking amazing, fresh, warm and all one could want—present company excluded. I was finishing my smoothie to wash the taste of avocado out of my mouth, still munching on a bagel filled with a wonderful creamy mozzarella, trying to overlook the carnage on the table. None of us had said a word since it arrived, the presence of the food causing some instinctive reaction, I knew why I felt hollow and so hungry, I could only guess why he did. _He’s hungover. He’s not spent too much energy being horny. Shhh. We’ll be negative later_.

“So. Did it freak you out?” His tone was light, but there was a hint of concern, for me or at me, I couldn’t decide.

“No.” I met his gaze evenly. “It was great actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” I forced my shoulders down and leaned back into the chair. “To see there are decent people out there.”

He laughed a little. “Most are actually like that.” He kept watching me. “Most people are respectful and nice.” He leaned forward, cupping his chin, his other hand half stretched out across the table, reminding me about the night before. “I know I told you the sob story, and that’s all true too, it does get to be too much sometimes. But mostly it’s this.”

I bit my lip, but just as I was about to respond, our server arrived and Seb pulled back to let him have space to work. I felt my fingers twitch, watching as his hand withdrew out of reach and I chastised my own silently, flexing it a little, I didn’t really need yet another body part on team no inhibitions.

I felt bad for the server as he filled his tray, the heap of debris from our meal was staggering, I’d have been ashamed but truth be told, we’d pretty much eaten it all. I saved the last bagel, put it on the side of the last half of my avocado toast and Seb grabbed the rest of the _huevos rancheros_ , asking for coffee refills as he did. He shrugged back into position, a glint of playfulness tinting the now ice blue bordering on grey, the exact colour I remembered from when we’d first met. It didn’t help my composure, honestly I was just hoping I wasn’t gaping and I barely managed not to crawl over the table. I regretted not drinking myself last night, then I’d not been able to resist and had probably slept with him. Maybe I’d been calmer then. _Sure. Because that’s been so effective before_. _Fair enough_. He wriggled his fingers at me and I pushed myself up and took the offered hand, again struck with how familiar it felt. _Dammit_.

The server reappeared with a fresh french press of their daily, and we both resurfaced enough to be polite, but only just. I hoped he wouldn’t get a bad rep, the way the staff in general had greeted him made it clear they all knew who he was, but so far there had been no questions or acknowledgements, for which I was grateful. True, the fan encounter had been a pleasant one, but I still preferred to not have to face them, and I was struck with admiration of how he dealt with it, he seemed completely oblivious to any nudge or stare. He kept my hand as he filled our mugs and tried the coffee.

“Delicious.” He smacked his lips, dragging the lower one from his teeth, and I might have moaned. A little. He smirked. “So.”

I sipped my own damn coffee and waited him out, something in his voice prepared me for a tricky topic, and I didn’t quite know if I could handle it yet.

“Three dates.”

My brows shot up in confusion until the shoe dropped and I rolled my eyes at him, happy that I was able to with the surge of heat between my legs.

“What?” I wasn’t going to make it easier than it had to be, I’d at least make him say it.

“Three dates. That’s the common rule, yeah? That we sort of skipped.” There was wistful tinge to his smile, but I just let him be. “Three dates.” His eyes glittered. “Before we fuck.”

The plan failed spectacularly. I choked on my coffee and grabbed blindly for the napkin he was kind enough to hand me, his whole face so goddamn satisfied I wanted to smack him.

“Oh my fucking god.” I was hoarse after my near drowning, making it even more annoying. If I’d only be able to stand my ground, I really didn’t have the strength to let him affect me to this degree. _Oh yes you have. Shut it_. At least the coughing had put a stop to the throbbing, so it wasn’t all bad.

“Thank you. But you’ve not really seen what I can do yet, let’s wait with the worship. Three dates.”

I sent him what I hoped was a glare before getting my eyes stuck to the back of my head. “Uh-uh. Sure.”

“This is the third.” He nibbled at that lip again and it got all swollen, poor thing—it should be kissed to make better. _JUST STOP LOOKING AT HIS MOUTH! KEEP IT TOGETHER!_

“What? No. It's not even the first! It's not a date unless money is spent!” Even I didn’t believe my argument, so I was surprised when it seemed he did.

“I bought you coffee the first time we met.”

“Yes. But a date presumes a previous arrangement.”

“But I’m buying you breakfast.”

“Yeah. But again, we didn't make a date for it.”

“Yes, we did! I asked before we left.”

“Yes, but you only did that after you came over uninvited. Call it a fee for room and board.”

“Touchè.” The sigh was an exaggerated affair, all puffed cheeks, but he did catch my hand again and squeezed it, and I couldn’t help return it. Fuck. “Fine. Three proper dates before sex is on the table.”

“Good.”

“If you think you can hold out that long.”

I pinched his hand. “Right now I'm thinking I can hold out forever. You're not that irresistible.” All lies, but hell. It was fun to imagine.

“Sure. That's why we had sex within an hour.”

“It wasn't within an hour. It was at least an hour and a half. Besides that has to do with my charm, not yours.”

“That's fair actually. You are pretty scrumptious.”

“Oh my god.”

“Are you eating the last bagel?”

“No. Go ahead.”

“Thanks. It's so cool to be back on carbs.” He bit off a huge mouthful, looking absolutely blissful and I shook my head at him, even pretending to be mad was a goddamn chore. “So. Three dates, eh?” His knee nudged between mine and I clenched my jaw, biting back a hiss.

“Yes. Three dates.” I rubbed his knee between mine—if I spread out I was half certain I was going to slide off my chair. “At least.” I was rewarded with a stifled groan, and even if I knew, him having told me about 500 times, it still felt good to see him responding to me as I did to him. Evened it out a bit more, and lords know I needed a more even field.

He tore off another piece, chewing with his mouth open, grinning. “I like it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It means you'll stick around for at least that long.” He swallowed hard and took a sip of coffee, smirking.

My heart skipped three beats. _What?_ “What?”

“Yeah. No way in hell you're gonna miss out on that.”

I threw my last piece of bagel at him. He dramatically shielded his face and picked the pieces of his lap, grinning.

“Oh my god, I truly hate you.”

“No, you truly don’t. And don’t throw food away, it’s not in line with sustainable living.”

“You’re a menace.”

“Absolutely.” He tugged my hand and pulled me closer, leaving about an inch of space between us. His expression went from teasing to searing in a second, a smile still playing, but his eyes were intense, boring into mine, exposing me completely. He paused, his grip hardened, and I squirmed enough for him to notice, eliciting a small laugh before he kissed me.

I found his neck and tried from clamping my fist into his hair, I didn’t want to land us in trouble with the owners. I was sure there was something about not fucking where people were supposed to eat. He dragged out the kiss to an agonising extent, his tongue barely teasing mine, softly, slowly, making small wet noises in my head and small wet spots on my chair. I was really glad they were some sort of rustic wood, easier to clean. I was proud to be the one that broke the kiss. Or reluctantly allowing it to happen without causing a scene. Which was pretty much the same thing. Yeah. Totally the same thing.

“A fucking menace.” I spoke into his mouth, his eyes filling my vision, hot puffs of air caressing my face from his low chuckle. I licked my lips, enjoying the aftertaste of him, my hand still on his neck, reluctant to let go. He kissed me lightly once more, slackened his grip and I forced myself to do the same. We both sank back, winded and flushed.

“Yeah.” He twisted his hips and did the tiniest of adjustments to his pants, just enough to send my pulse into a frenzy. Again. Was it still cardio if you only thought about sex? My heart was doing the work after all, and by now I must have had at least two NY marathons under my belt for just being in the same periphery. “Sure. I’m the menace.”

Maybe it was a hint of it in his voice that set me off but for a fleeting second I also thought I saw his face flash with something else, sadness or desperation or _something_ , but it was gone before I had time to decipher it, and the tease was back. _What? You’re on edge too_. I shook it off, I knew there were things that needed addressing, but why do today what you can ruin tomorrow with, right?

“Well, yeah.” I reached for the press, but he beat me to it, topping us both off and gave me the mug. I grabbed it and drank, I needed to hide behind something, the kiss had knocked me off kilter. Which was pretty much my default state with him, true, but sometimes it was worse than others. I spent the break looking anywhere but him and took in the room, the people who, apart from a few curious and giggling faces, were all neutral or studiously avoiding us. Fuck. It dawned on me what it would mean to be caught kissing him in a public place, and I felt the blush all the way into my scalp.

“Don’t worry. No one snapped a picture.”

Ignoring the indication that he did indeed have a direct hotline into my brain as well, I looked at him. He was hiding behind his cup too, were his cheeks pink?

“I wasn—” I tried again. “How do you know?”

“I just do.” He grinned. “Besides, I’m not the most known face in the world. As you said, sometimes people are just nice and respectful.”

I finished the coffee, my hands were starting to shake, and even if I knew the caffeine wasn’t the main reason for it, it certainly didn’t help. _Maybe we should just fuck and get the tension sorted_. His grin widened like he knew. _Fuck_.

“You want to get out of here?” I needed to move, I didn’t want it to end, honestly I wanted back to the flat, but maybe some fresh air would help me calm down, at least it might get some excess stimulants out of my system.

“What? Are you afraid I’ll spill coffee on myself and have you take me home to fix me up?”

“Oh my god. Are you saying I would have to come up with an elaborate scheme to get you home? You would take that much convincing?”

“Well, yeah. We’ve agreed now, and you regret it.”

I didn’t have any bagel left so I settled for a gentle kick in the shin. It wouldn’t have been so annoying hadn’t it also been so fucking _true_. And him _knowing_ it was true.

“Yes. You’ve got me. I will now spend the first two dates trying to coach you in to rescind.”

“I know!” He laughed while he finished his own drink. “You need to stop trying to get me into bed, it’s unbecoming of a lady.”

“I—” I was very pleased my shrug was so casual. “No, that’s fair. I think we should add a no touching clause to the whole thing, just to keep me in check.”

He stared for a moment in mock contemplation. “Nah. I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll manage to keep you at bay.” 

“Oh, don’t be too sure,” I muttered, but high enough for him to hear and the responding smile made me clench so hard I was sure my whole body contracted. _Oh, I can't do this._ I cleared my throat. “You wanna leave?”

He checked his phone for the time. “Fuck. Yeah, actually. I have a meeting in an hour. How long have we been here?”

I checked mine. “Almost two hours since we left.” I shrugged into my coat, ignoring the pang of hurt that he had to leave. _He still has a life. You can’t expect him to spend the whole day with you._ For some reason I had, and now everything was back to uncertainty, and I didn’t even know how to ask him about it. _Jesus, he’s said in no uncertain terms that he wants to spend time with you. Just be cool_. Easier said than done. “We should get going so you’re not late.”

We both got up, the unease settled in my stomach no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, the last thing I wanted was for him to notice it, so of course he did. He slipped his own coat on and came over, tugged my hair out, his fingers heating my skin as they went, held my neck for a moment and smiled.

“Come. I’ll walk you home.” He kissed my cheek, took my hand and lead me out the door, my breathing a bit easier. _Shit. You need to grow a pair. Learn to just roll with it. What does he have to do to prove himself to you, propose?_ Great. Now that image was stuck in my head, and I was glad he had his back turned until we were outside.

“You don’t have to walk me home.” I kept my tone light. “It’s not like I’ll get lost in my own street at half one pm.”

“No, but I might. I took the train last night and that’s the only way I know to get back.”

He produced the damn glasses from his pocket and I tried to look away, I honestly tried, but fuck. Those were some good-looking glasses. He caught what might have been a more predatory expression than I would have liked, and the goddamn teeth were back to work on the lip.

“Huh. You really like those, don’t you?”

“What?” I continued to stare, he’d already caught me, I no longer had any dignity and I had decided to roll with it after all. “They’re good-looking glasses’”

“You’ve seen them before, haven’t you?”

I just kept looking at my own reflection, ignoring the way his eyes crinkled behind them.

“Sure. There’s a designer shop in the village that has them on display. They’re really nice.” The lie came out so smoothly I considered dislocating my shoulder patting my back, and if nothing else it brought back the easier mood, which mattered more than I liked to think about. He added some tongue to the mix and I was momentarily distracted. “Uh-uh. Sure.” He pulled them off and held them out to me. “Here. Try them on.” I took them hesitantly and put them on, they were a little big but really comfortable on the eyes. So that’s what $600 could by instead of $50. Interesting. Yeah. I handed them back, and he took them, seeming a bit confused. “They look better on you.” His grin could only be described as shit-eating so I ignored him, turned away and started walking. His hand took mine after 6 feet and he fell in step, still grinning. He leaned into my ear.“I knew you liked them.”“Good glasses. Nothing more.”

“Sure you want to wait three dates? I could keep them on.”

“I thought you had a meeting.”

“Oh fuck. I forgot.” He nudged my shoulder. “The right incentive…”

“Oh god. You’re insufferable.”

“Well, you make me suffer.”

I glanced at him, brows arching. “Seriously? Guilting me into sex?”

“What? No. Who said anything about sex?”

“You did. Less than 10 seconds ago.”

“No. I just meant, you know.”

“No, I don’t actually.”

“You just keep me guessing.”

The thought was so ridiculous I burst out laughing.

“What?” He looked dead serious but I could see the crinkling around his eyes.

“Nothing.” I couldn’t stop the chuckling, and he tightened his grip, as per redirecting a gallon of blood, but strangely to my chest instead of my midriff. “You’re just…”

“Impossibly charming and attractive? Unbelievably funny and good looking?” He walked backwards in front of me, I could feel the puppy eyes through the glasses and I shoved him back. “Insanely hot and fuckable?” The warm air to my neck and ear didn’t help, but at least it shot the blood back where it should be.

“Yes. All of the above.”

“Yes!”

“Oh, and don’t forget modest and humble.”

“Of course. But those go without saying.”

“Asshole.”

“That too.”

“That most of all.”

The walk back seemed shorter, which was natural, time always move faster when you don’t want it too. I stopped outside my building and turned to him, smiling.

“Okay.”

“What? No, I said I’d walk you home.”

“But t—”

He steered me towards the entrance and held the door. I shrugged and went inside figuring a peck on the cheek on the street wasn’t half as bad as the smooching at the bakery, but what did I know.

“Right, I—” His hand found my lower back and swooped me along to the elevator and I went along with it, standing in absolute silence during the ascent, before I lead the way to my door while fishing out my key and put it in the lock.

“Okay, no—” I was pressed into the wall so hard I thought maybe I’d get stuck there, his hand on my hip, his face only millimetres away.

“Dinner tonight?” I just blinked, completely overwhelmed, realising to the fullest why he’d taken it out of public view.

“Okay.”

“Good. Seven?”

“Okay.”

The kiss was softer than expected. Again. _What the fuck is with him and the damn restraint?_ His tongue barely twirled lightly around the tip of mine, his hands massaged my hips and worked their way to my ass but I couldn’t hold back a low moan, when had I ever, and the game changed again. My hands were cupping his jaw and carding his hair, he ground against me while his tongue plunged deeper, more aggressive, his erection grinding my mound and stomach, letting me feel how hard he was even through thick layers of clothing and suddenly I was hoisted up with my ankles crossed behind him. I’d have dropped my clothing right there, god knows my jeans were ready to slide off, his fingers dug into me and the guttural sounds sounds combined with the force of his cock against my clit was almost enough to make me come.

“Fuck.” With his forehead resting on mine, he pulled back enough for some air to come in between us, but the grinding didn’t stop, and I had to fight to keep my lungs working.

“Yeah.” Was it possible to cum through two layers of wool, two layers of denim and two pairs of underwear? Maybe not, but it was goddamn close. “Yeah.”

He kissed me again before his head fell to the side, his cheek against mine, my breath in his ear, his scent surrounding me and we both sighed as his hips moved slower and withdrew enough to leave me aching, We stayed there for a few minutes, a strange calm settling through the haze in my body, stilling my pulse a little, the throbbing less pronounced. I would still jerk off, but I might manage to get into bed before I did.

“Fuck me.” His whole body shook from the rumble in his chest and I joined him. “What is it with you, I cannot fucking control myself.” I could feel his smile as he spoke into my temple, and I burrowed further into his collar, my face burning. “It always fucking escalates.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you really?”

“No, I’m really not.”

“Me neither.” He slackened his grip, and I untangled my legs and let myself sink to the floor, regretting every inch of the journey. “I have to go.”

“Yeah. I have some shit to do myself.” I refrained from sharing the details, besides I should spend some time with my notes after.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” I couldn’t help enjoying the fact he was so reluctant to leave, I had a vivid slideshow in my head of what would happen if he didn’t and I expected he had too.

“So I’m gonna go. I’ll call you after I’m done.”

“Okay.”

He kissed me one last time, his hands buried in my hair, moaning as he retreated, and I let my hands fall away.

“Thank you for breakfast.” He cupped my chin, his thumb worrying my lip. I smiled and stroked his hair back in response. He leaned in for a last peck on my cheek. “Let’s make a habit of it.”

And with that he walked away, leaving me stunned and elated and aching, watching his back as it receded down the hall. _What the hell have you gotten yourself into?_ I didn’t have an answer, but I knew, without a doubt, that something had changed, and despite it all I wasn’t completely sure how I felt about it. _Are we really doing this?_ The stutter in my chest was enough. _Yes, we bloody well are._


	9. One.

Nice, but casual. Casually nice. Not overdressed but not jeans. Or pyjama pants. I eyed them longingly. _What does that even mean?_ I cursed Seb’s name not at all silently and wished the poor sod that had come up with text messages at all to hell.

I’d almost dropped the phone in shock when he’d called. I mean, I knew he had my number, I’d just not entertained the idea he’d ever _use_ it. Especially since he’d, for some reason, thought it necessary to enter his full name, how many Sebs did he think I knew? I’d answered on the third ring, for some insane reason I figured this was a good time to appear cool. It hadn’t worked at all since I was breathless as fuck as soon as I’d heard him.

“Hi. It’s Seb.”

“Yeah. I know.”

He laughed, a low, throaty thing reverberated through my whole frame. _Fuck_.

“I only have a few minutes, is seven still alright?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Great. I’m stuck here until then, it took longer than I thought, I will barely have time to go home to change.”

“Okay. Change into what?”

“What?”

“What should I wear?”

“Anything would be great. Or nothing. That would be even better.”

“Haha. Seriously. What should I wear?”

“Something casual but nice. Nothing fancy, just be comfortable.” I heard someone call him in the background. “Fuck. I have to go. See you at seven.” He paused for 3 seconds. “I can’t wait.”

I just stood there, looking at the phone like an ass after he clicked off, gaping, my goodbye just hanging unused, not daring to put it away, not sure he was really gone. Then I got a bit annoyed, he’d surely not needed to leave quite so abruptly? Then a text trickled in.

_Sorry. Didn’t mean to leave you hanging. Don’t stress about what to wear, whatever will be fine. Casually nice. Don’t stress. S._

The fact that he was still getting clear reception straight from my brain didn’t really do anything to alleviate my slight annoyance, but the start of a text thread did. _Pathetic_. The phone vibrated again.

_I can’t wait to see you. S._

My heart did a somersault, why it mattered he’d actually written it, saving it for posterity, I didn’t know, it just _did_. Then he ruined it with sending a smirk emoji. Ignoring the burning between my legs that were offset by it, ruined was a strong word, I’d not deigned to answer him at first. Then I’d thought about if the roles were reversed and sent him a little “see you” and even added a tongue emoji for good measure. This sweet flirting was going to ruin _me. Fuck him._

I sighed heavily and ducked into the closet again, hoping against hope that I’d have a nice understated designer number stashed away back there, maybe a fairy godmother had left me one. Or a drunk me, gods know I’d wondered what happened to my account on more than a few occasions. _Fuck_. Casual but nice. _What.does.it.even.mean?_

I became aware of the small meow behind me and turned towards the bed where Nimbus sat beside the heap of my rejects and judged me the way only cats can.

“You think it’s funny?”

“Mrrp.”

“You think I’m stupid.”

“Prrt.”

“Yeah. I agree.” I threw the last bad option on the rest and leaned on the closet door, sighing. “If I can’t handle one date with him, then who am I kidding?”

 _But he does like you._ _Maybe. Or he’s looking for an easy lay._ All this effort didn’t constitute easy though. _Maybe not easy. Maybe great_. Even I could admit that he’d enjoyed himself in my company at least once. The heat spread by the memory of it. As it always did. _Oh for fuck’s sake, get a grip._ I went over to the bed and started rifling through the pile. The closet was empty anyway, might as well start a round of second opinion.

I held up a grey silk strapless thing that would hardly cover my ass. Nimbus stared at it, then at me. Right. That will not help keep the three date deal. He could fuck me in a random wardrobe without even having to pull it up. _Not the order of the day._ I took a moment to expel the thought from my head. _Right_.

“How about this?” I shook out a black form-hugging knee-length Stella McCartney with a halter neck I’d bought for a friend’s engagement party. It was one of the few designer outfits I owned, but also pretty much my best dress. Nimbus ignored me studiously, telling me all I needed to know. “True. No point starting at the top, it’ll only go downhill from there. That’s for a later occasion.” I tugged it a little, getting the creases out before I hung it back.

“This then?” It was a knitted 50s style piece, also black, but with white details. It came with a wide belt with a huge buckle, and I had some vintage shoes to go with. Nimbus didn’t even dignify me with a glance. “Too Jackie O, I agree.” Fuck. The options were dwindling fast.

“Okay.” I found my all-purpose black, slinky skirt, rooted through for a fitting top and found a soft silk tank top I’d bought in London. It was a favourite, by a small unknown designer, and it looked like a corset at first glance without revealing everything underneath. It was a dark deep green, I had a strapless bra that hid everything it needed, I knew I had a scarf that would go with it, and I could use boots, which was the clincher. “Hey?” I waved the items at Nimbus, and he sat up, following it as it swayed around, looking like he wanted to join the ride.

“Mrrmpt.”

“Great. That’s decided then.” I threw them over a chair and hastily put the rest back— why were my hands shaking? “Thank you ever so much for your invaluable assistance, your highness.” The highness flopped down on the bed—on his side. _OH MY FUCKING GOD YOU NEED HELP._ I closed the closet with much more force than it needed. _Let’s make a habit of it._ I groaned in frustration and stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

I was fiddling with the mascara when I heard the soft knock. _Shit_. I picked up my phone. 6.26. _What the fuck?_ Another knock. Jesus. I ignored it, damn if I was gonna open the door with mascara on one eye. _Well, rude goes in the con column, who the fuck shows up half an hour early for a date_. Especially when the pickupee was banking for fashionably late. The man was a model too after all.

“You there?” It was muffled through two sets of doors and a hallway but the voice still caused a tingle down my spine, making me fight real hard to keep on the task at hand.

“Yes! Gimme a second.” I blinked and assessed the result. Not too bad, I’d even managed the liquid liner better than usual. I knew I couldn’t realistically hear the impatient shuffle outside, but I still totally could. I went to open the door, and I definitely heard someone slumping against the wall beside it. I took a deep breath, hoping this would get easier over time— _oh my god, time, let’s make a habit of it, jesus shush_ —and opened the door a lot more coolly than I’d expected. At least I didn’t wrench it open and throw myself at him. Of course, that changed when I saw him, I had to dig my toes into the carpet to keep from leaping. _Fuck_.

He was the definition of casual but nice, or more correctly, loosely translated: stylish but prepared to fuck.

The coat had been dumped for a shiny leather jacket over a thick beige knitted turtleneck, snug enough to accentuate his torso, but stretchy enough to be easily pulled off. His black dress pants did nothing to conceal what I knew was under there, not even a belt, like what the fuck, he could at least try, and on his feet were solid winter boots that would provide nice traction to keep someone mounted against a wall. He was freshly showered, I could smell the faint scent of his cologne from three feet away—oh god, I’d missed that during the last nine hours—his hair was shiny, still damp and falling into his eyes, promising a lot of him pushing it away all night, his eyes, goddamn his eyes, the shades were so much easier, and his brilliant smile made me bite back a whimper.

But that was nothing of course, nothing at all compared to the way my skin vibrated as he took me in and stripped me down straight to my core, his smile turning into a lustful grin, teeth, tongue, lip, the whole nine yards.

“Wow.”

“Uh-uh.”

“You look amazing.”

“You’re early.”

“Sorry. The ride over took less time than I thought.” He didn’t look contrite in the slightest. “You look amazing.”

“Uh-uh. Yeah, you said. Thanks.” I forced myself back, opening the door and he stepped through. “You’re not so bad yourself.” I let the door slide shut and he just stood there, still looking, still assessing, still making me hope I wouldn’t actually stain the carpet when I moved. It was old and needed replacing, but even so. I got a small grip and managed to avert my eyes enough to pass him without touching him. “I’m not quite ready, just wait in there.” I gestured vaguely towards the general vicinity of my apartment, or maybe the one across the hall.

He waited a few seconds, still with his gaze glued to me, sending clear signals into my brain, and I had to hold back a suggestion of cancelling the whole thing. Three dates were stupid anyway, we’d already had sex, what was a bit more between new acquaintances when you thought about it? I cleared my throat, and he shook his head, clearly returning from a more interesting place.

“Yeah. Of course.” He smiled. “But you already look fantastic, what can you possibly do to improve that?” he cocked his head. “Apart from, you know.”

“Oh, I’ll be quick. Just gonna change my underwear.”

He looked like I’d slapped him, and I finally found the strength to walk into the bathroom, unbelievably satisfied with myself. Nice. It’d be straight back to square one as soon as I got out, but for now I took the point. _Are we keeping score though? Oh fuck yeah_. I needed to hold my own, I couldn’t come off as a desperate teenager all the time. I mean, I knew I would, but all I wanted was a little more desperation from him. _Let’s make a habit of it. Fuck._

They were back at it, I could hear the murmur from the kitchen, and I worried faintly that it felt so familiar. It had only happened once before, only the same day, but their interaction had a routine-ish quality. I stopped to slip on my boots before I moved my fresh pantied ass into the kitchen. Yeah, I hadn’t been joking.

“Hello boys.” Both of them looked at me, caught out with the treats, and I rolled my eyes. Nimbus bumped his head on his hand, and Seb responded with putting the lid on the box while scratching his ear.

“You saw nothing.”

“Obviously.” I reached for the box, and he handed it to me, his fingers meeting mine and I almost flinched. _Wow_. It was going to be a long night. “You ready to go?”

“Yes. If you are.”

“As ready as I ever will be.”

He grinned. “You sound like I’m gonna throw you to the lions.” He got up and closed the distance. “I mean, if you’d rather stay in…” He ghosted his hand up my arm and this time it was no hiding anything, the shiver and goosebumps came whether I wanted them or not.

“No. It’s fine. I’d love to go. I can’t wait.” _Shit_. Even my voice was trembling a little.

“Uh-uh.” He inched forward, drawing me in, sounding thick and gravelly. “You absolutely sure?”

 _No. No, no. You can do this. Some restraint. Please._ I managed to inhale and blinked him away, allowing me to back up half a step. “No, I’m not.” I got some more air in me. “Which is why we should go.” I ignored his small pout and tore myself away, my arm strangely reluctant to move. Fuck it.

I turned back and kissed him lightly, tasting him, sucking his lip before I let go and thoroughly enjoyed his face, his eyes wide and his jaw a bit slack. _Nice_. It was totally worth the swell of dampness in my clean underwear. Maybe I should’ve packed an extra pair in my bag. Oh well. I took his hand and pulled him with me, he still looked a bit dazed when I deposited him in the bathroom.

“Wash your hands.”

“Huh? Oh. Okay.” He obediently turned the faucet on, and I left him to it.

I found my coat and got the scarf, it was mostly for the aesthetics so I hoped I wouldn’t freeze to death. _Yeah, sure. Only your extremities, they won’t see any blood tonight. Huh. That’s fair._ I heard him behind me and finished tying the scarf, shouldering my bag as I turned. He was just standing there, no movement, no nothing, and I still had to employ enormous effort to reach past him to open the door. Odds were that it would get easier in time, but it was an absolute certainty that they would get way worse before that. Damn. Long night indeed.

“Shall we?”

“Uh, yeah.” He blinked and got moving, his hand resting on the small of my back as we emerged into the corridor and the door locked behind us.

“So where are we going?” I waited until he fell in step, his hand lingering, providing a source of heat and support at the same time, it was kind seeing as my legs were a bit wobbly by the knee. Of course the damn hand was the reason for that state, but still. Nice.

“Just a local place. It came highly recommended.”

“Google again?”

“No. A friend. He used to live not too far away.”

“Oh.” The thought of him involving his friend was both scary and comforting, but I couldn’t decide which was more pronounced.

“Don't worry. I didn't tell him who you are.”

“Oh. Okay.” We stopped by the elevator, it seemed more classy than the stairs. Besides, weak legs.

“Not that I don't want to, I just wasn't sure if you'd mind.”

“Right.”

“Would you? Mind.”

“Er. No. I can't say I would.” The doors slid open, creaking and complaining. His hand steered me in. I pressed the button and peeked at him. “Or it depends.”

“On what?”

“On what you'd say.”

“Oh, like I'd say this woman I fucked an hour after I met her under the pretence of being my brother has agreed to go out with me, where should I take her?”

“For instance,” I sniffed. “And it was ninety minutes at least.”

He chuckled and his hand slid down my ass, but before I could react it had moved on and his fingers thread through mine. He sent me a strange look before he squeezed lightly and lead the way towards the exit as the lift opened.

“It was longer than I wanted.”

My mouth slammed shut as we stepped out into the cold air.

The restaurant was Greek, probably an original mom and pop operation that had expanded through generations, medium-sized and cosy, candles on the tables providing a nice secluded setting at our corner table. It was also in Astoria, less than a 10-minute ride from my house, and I couldn’t help if that idea kept rolling around in my head. _Let’s make a habit of it._

The cab ride over had been surprisingly relaxed, we’d behaved more or less like adults, the only concession being that he’d taken my hand and dragged his nose along the inside of my wrist, making me prod him in the ribs when he’d started sucking on each of my fingertips. I knew the driver would have had his backwards vision impaired if I’d ripped Seb’s clothes off and straddled the man in the backseat, and I was nothing if not conscious of traffic safety. He’d had a blast though, and after that little nugget in the elevator I felt he deserved it, no matter the state of me. Besides, I’d already accepted my fate, I had no illusions of self-control left.

I was seated by the wall so he could sit with his back to the room, just a precaution, and at first I’d thought I could act as a watchdog, but that plan soon showed its flaws when I realised I’d not be able to see anything other than him. The dim lighting cast his eyes in shadow, making them even more intense: they were shining and glittering and alive as they kept roaming over me and locking my gaze as needed. And I didn’t mind one jot. All I could feel was elated by him, he seemed so damn happy and had it been catching before it was ten times more now. Maybe I was finally believing him, accepting that he really did like me, that it wasn’t just sex and that he was just as enthralled with me as I was with him. _Yeah sure._ Okay maybe the last part was a stretch, but the two first were more or less within the realm of possibility, so progress was being made.

All during the meal the conversation flowed easily, even if parts of it brought a strong sense of déjà vu, I had had some of it before, but his responses were different this time. Maybe that showed on my face because sometimes he looked almost apologetic or sad, but it was only brief flashes, and he caught himself each time. But that was the only thing marring an otherwise excellent time. He was so goddamn easy to be around, so likeable, so funny, at times downright adorable, and I didn’t know what was worse, that he kept affecting me physically to the point of bursting or that he sometimes made me forget that he did.

I became increasingly aware that it was fast evolving to the point that the physical thing would be surpassed by something more emotional, and wonderful as that feeling was, it also scared me shitless. He was who he was, a world renown actor in a huge franchise, with millions of fans across the globe, leading a life of glamour and admiration, and I was who I was, a somewhat introvert English scholar, pursuing a career in literature, which lead to a natural state of seclusion, and I had no place in that world, I didn’t even want it. But I wanted him. So libido aside, scared shitless.

We waited on dessert, still sipping our wine, the table again cleared of the leftovers of vegetable _moussaka_ , vegetable _souvlaki_ and _spanakopita_ , the _dolmades_ and _loukoumades_ saved from the purge to be nibbled. I was watching his hand, glistening with oil from the _dolmades_ he’d just finished, reminding me of something else that had made his hand glisten and shine, when he snapped his fingers in front of me while sucking the oil off slowly and studiously—he always knew and it was aggravating.

“You really like that, don’t you?” I sent him a well-deserved glare which he took with a satisfied laugh.

“Yep.”

“It doesn’t help the three date thing.”

“Nope.”

“I’m starting to think your heart’s not in it.”

“Oh, no.” He positively beamed at me. “On the contrary, I’m enjoying myself immensely.”

“Yeah, I bet.” I stretched my leg under the table, stroked my ankle against his. Sure, it did nothing to relieve me, but it was still gratifying to see the effect on him, how did any kind of touch feed into that?

He reached for a napkin and dried off his hand and mouth, his lips and beard not quite losing the sheen. _Fuck_. “Still worth it.”

I gave him a small kick.

“Ouch.” He feigned serious injury and used the excuse to slip his hand under the table and graze my knee and thigh.

“Oh god. Stop. It’s really obvious.” I was furious at myself that I sank down a few inches, but what could you do? I was only human, and his fingers were warm. I really should have put on some hose. _Yep_.

“Stop. Please.”

“Okay.” He immediately withdrew his hand, making me both irritated and glad. At least he respected boundaries, but did he really have to when it was so obvious I didn’t want him to? _Hell yes. Yes, it is._ Yes, it was. He leaned back and threw the napkin on the table and I seized the opportunity to steer us back to decent ground. I sat up, removing the temptation, better safe than hornier.

“You’re not vegetarian.”

“No. But you are.”

“How did you know?”

“I went through your fridge. I was hungover and desperate. No meat. Absolutely none. And I really wanted some meat.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? My problem, not yours. Although I was a bit worried.”

“Why?”

“That it went for all sorts.” He grinned. I rolled my eyes and ignored him. “You’re not vegan though. I knew that.”

“How? Oh, the latte.”

“Yeah, and breakfast.”

“Yeah. But that doesn't mean you—”

“I know. But I actually like it. I have to eat so much meat during training. So damn much. So I usually take some time off after a stint. Carbs. Vegetables. Fruit. Cereal. Cake and dessert.” As if on cue, ours arrived, and we placed both the _baklava_ and _bougasta_ at the middle of the table, claiming a fork each and started digging in. “Fuck, that’s great.”

I just nodded in agreement while I swallowed. “Okay. As long as you don't do it on my accord.”

“What if I did? It wouldn't bother me. Besides, it’s a little because of that.”

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“You keep doing that. Saying it's not me, but then it is.”

“No, I don’t. When have I ever?”

“With how you pretended to be… him, and then saying it was because I was so irresistible.” I pointed my fork at him. “Or when you said I didn’t share the blame for this whole thing between you two.”

“Okay, first of all, this kinda seems like small fry compared to those. Besides, it’s not true. I said it was because of my charm, it was you who said it was yours.” He smirked, but again there was this tinge to it. “And for the last thing, believe me. No matter how much of an impression you made, we have a long history of this shit.”

“What? Driving women crazy?”

He chuckled. “Well, that too.” He took another bite, displaying that fucking tongue. “But no. Just letting everything escalate. He’s the oldest, you know. And I’ve always been the sucker, the kid brother.” He shrugged. “It comes with the territory, I don’t think any siblings don't use the age thing to their advantage. But I’ve held my own the last few years. And that’s caused… complications.” He inhaled deeply, blew his cheeks on the exhale and held his breath, seemingly making a decision.

“Okay. Let’s talk about Aleksei.” He stared at me, his tone tentative but determined, his expression soft but calculating, clearly gauging my reaction, and I hoped my face didn’t betray the sense of dread.

I’d spent so much time trying to suppress the confusion, but I couldn’t, they were linked together, every similar word or gesture made it impossible. But it was different going into the heart of the matter. And speaking of heart, I was sure the pounding was visible to him too.

“What?” It was futile, and I was just stalling.

“You heard me. We need to talk about this.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“No ‘maybe.’ We need to get it out.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” My thumbnail became of utmost importance. _Be a fucking adult. Come on. What’s the worst that could happen? What could it hurt? Everything._

“He’s fine, by the way.”

“He is?”

“Well, no. But he will be. We always are."

My chest contracted, constricting my lungs. Not the relief I was hoping for. Fuck. “So you’ve talked then?”

“Talked as in exchanged word, yes. About this? No.”

“Okay… But you’re good?”

“We’re… Not the worst we’ve been, but we’ll get there.”

“To the worst?” I smiled a little, and he leaned on his elbow and returned it, reaching for my hand. I took it, our fingers locking.

“No. We’ll get to okay. We always do.”

“But you’ve not talked about this. About me.”

“Well, we did touch upon it a little. I apologised. He didn’t. Asshole.”

I smiled again. “What did you say you were sorry for?”

“For saying he’s a cheater. Or suspect him to be.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“And for fucking up in the first place. And for pretending to be him. Not that I’m gonna stop. He’s okay with it if, well… you know.” He grimaced and trailed off.

“Okay. That’s fair.”

“None of us mentioned you.”

“Huh. Good.” The uncertainty wasn’t abated even with him massaging my hand.

“I mean, none of us had the guts to. Big can of worms.”

“What? That’s just stu—”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Well, no. I mean yes. But it was just—I was barely—”

“Oh, you made more than an impression, you can’t be unaware. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“But I didn't mean to… I mean, it was intense, but—”

“Oh, yeah. Intense is a word for it.”

“But it was still just—”

“Sex?”

I flinched. “No. I mean. It was short, it shouldn't have—”

“Yeah, well it did. You did. Whatever you think about us, this was not business as usual. This was new. You are new.”

“Well, but I thought—Why—How…?” I just trailed off, I really couldn't find the words.

“Listen. I had to drink to get myself to talk to you. I was scared you would just slam the door in my face. You probably should have. We were both assholes to you.”

“No?” I stared at our hands. “You weren’t? I mean, I played my part in—”

“No. I mean. I didn't mean to. I didn’t set out to. And I’m sure he didn’t either. But still. You got caught in the middle. And it wasn't fair.”

“Hey. I’m an adult. I’m also responsible for that.” Wow. A complete sentence.

“Yeah. But we're more so. I’m more so.”

“I thought we agreed, no guilt.”

“Easier said than done.”

There wasn’t more to say. I wanted to ask more, but what was the point. Whatever happened between them was none of my business. And he was sincere, I was sure of that. _It would still be good to get the other side._ My heart flipped over. His dejected form vivid in my head. _Alex_. Well, yeah. But right now that was out of reach, and I had to live with that. And I did what I had been doing, I shoved it back, and I hoped he’d do the same. Whatever was going on here, their relationship was the most important one, maybe in time I’d get to help that. _Wow. We are getting more confident, aren’t we? Shush._

We finished our dessert in relative silence, emptying plates and glasses, the mood wasn’t quite the same, but it got better and by the time he’d settled the bill and we were looking for a cab, we were fine. Or near enough. Truth be told it wouldn’t have been that long of a walk, but neither of us was really dressed for the weather, and I could feel he was just minutes away from offering me his jacket. I took his hand while we stood there, and he grinned widely. What would be the reason for that? We’d been holding hands more or less all day, it was starting to feel like second nature. _Maybe that’s why you slow-witted nugmuffin. Maybe._

The cab ride was a different story. Everything was amped up by alcohol and emotional drain compared to the first trip, his hand was on my thigh, teasing its way up, my skirt was tight but not tight enough to yield, and well. It did kinda help that I was spreading my legs and palming his crotch, feeling him grow beneath with me.

“Fuck. I really should have kept the coat.”

I snuggled closer and kissed him behind the ear.

“You’re not helping.” His low, sing-song voice enticed me even more and my poor skirt was starting to struggle at the seams. _Eh._ It was an old thing, and not that expensive. Small price to pay. He’d just reached the edge of my panties and rewarded me with a whimpering groan when I gave his earlobe a nibble just as we became aware that we’d stopped. _Ooops._ I giggled nervously as I worked myself out of the car, very conscious of how there was no friction between my legs. 

“Keep the change.” He paid the driver while following me, and I turned and nodded to the man, no reason to completely forego basic etiquette. He returned with a knowing grin and a small shake before he drove off, leaving us a bit flushed on the pavement. Huh. Not as discreet as I’d hoped. Oh well. Seb put his arm around me and turned me around, but I stopped and faced him.

“Maybe we should end it here.”

“What? No way. I’m not leaving you on the street.”

“No, I meant I could leave you, and you can stare after me longingly, aware of what you’re missing.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, that’s not happening.” He stroked my cheek, eliciting a small catch of air. “I mean the leaving part, I’m already staring longingly, completely aware of my loss.”

“But. I mean. Why make it worse?” I leaned into his palm. “If we’re sticking to this stupid three dates thing.”

“Aha! I knew you thought it was stupid.”

“Of course it is. But also…”

“It makes sense. Yeah, I know.” He hooked my neck in his elbow and kissed my temple. “But nevertheless I’m walking you up.”

It really wasn’t too hard not to protest. I cocked my head towards the entrance and we went inside. The elevator ride was agony, I didn’t know if I could resist him one more time. And I was sure at the slightest escalation he wouldn’t either. But stupid as the three dates thing was, I really wanted to keep it, it did make sense in a way. I needed to let it evolve naturally, the intensity of the start aside, this was something I wanted to have a solid foundation, and I was finally convinced he wanted the same. _Be strong. You can do this._

We reached my door, and I prepared myself for the onslaught, but it didn’t come. He did back me into the wall, but he braced himself with one hand on each side of my head and just locked my eyes firmly, watching me for an endless moment before he whispered into my ear, my whole body radiating heat in response, and he kissed me, his lips barely ghosting mine, his tongue flicking them gently. _Let’s make a habit of it._

He pushed himself off and for the second time within hours I watched him disappear down the hall, his only word still echoing in my head. _One_.


	10. Two.

_Seb and Alex Stan by[LK](http://mischief-in-mirkwood.tumblr.com/)_.

I almost broke the press in frustration. I was so tired, and I needed coffee—and why didn't the lid fit? _Fuck_. I let go of it, shook my arms and inhaled until my lungs were close to bursting.

“Mrrpt.” Nimbus snaked himself around my leg, stood up and clawed my knee gently. I sighed.

“Sorry. I’m just so tired.” I picked him up and buried my face in his fur, not caring if my face got covered in hair. He purred and rubbed his head under my chin before he started to struggle and went straight to his bowl when I reluctantly let him down. “Yes, of course.” I broke out the wet food to eager accolades, and he settled down, ignoring my plight. Yeah, well. Not really his problem.

I went back to work on the lid, my head was pounding, and I needed some goddamn coffee in me before I had to face anything. _Ah_. I’d not screwed the filter on properly, and it was all crooked. _Great_. I was fiddling with it when the phone started vibrating on the table and I brought the whole mess over to dismantle, it was easier to do sitting down anyway. I swiped Bucky away and checked the messages. _Shit_.

_Hey. You up?_

I wasn’t ready for this yet. I needed more time, be more awake, drink some goddamn coffee. I closed my eyes and pinched my nose. _One. One. One._ The echo thumped in perfect tune with a dull headache. _Fuck_. I really shouldn’t have had the last glass of _retsina_ , but at least I’d only had one _ouzo_ and I was thankful for that one piece of self-control. _Fuck. Shit and fuck it all to hell._ And yet, and yet. I hit reply.

_Yes._

The response came before my finger had left the screen.

_Can I call?_

I tried to calculate the amount of fucked up it would make me—how much I could take. It had been a long fucking night. All of the day before had had time to simmer, and I’d been drifting in and out of sleep all night. The dreams weren’t the worst, they’d been really messed up for a while and they were still a mess, but the awake stages were torture. I knew—or I thought I knew—that he was sincere. I did believe him, I truly did. I’d been turning it around in my head a thousand times, and no one would go through all this effort if they weren’t serious. So I was onboard with that. That wasn’t the problem though. The problem was what it would mean. _Let’s make a habit of it._ A habit of breakfast with Sebastian Stan. Of waking up with Sebastian Stan. With _Sebastian_ fucking _Stan. One._

Then there was the Alex thing. Question. Talk. Theme. All of the above. It’d been easier if he could’ve been a villain of the piece. Just a cheating cheater, a manipulative bastard that didn’t care for anyone but himself, who enjoyed gaslighting unknown women, who had no regard for his brother or family, who… But it wasn’t that simple. Hence my not the bestest night ever. Truth be told, no matter what this thing with Seb was evolving towards, I knew I’d never just get over his brother. How could I? I’d not been set to make the choice, it wasn’t mine to make. But that didn’t mean I’d not been hurt or affected by it. It had been one, long-ass night—with so much turmoil and turns I still couldn’t begin to make sense of it. And my brain had done its best to remind me all night. _I want to see you spread out on my bed, I want to watch you when I crawl up. I want to smell the skin on the inside of your thighs. I want to watch you watch me when I sink my face into your dripping cunt. I wa—Let’s make a habit out of it. One. One. One. FUCK!_ With an effort I snapped back to reality, but my hand trembled a teensy bit as I answered.

_Gimme 5 mins._

My hands were slick with sweat and my chest was constricting in the short moment before the text ticked in. _Shit_.

_Okay. Gimme a beep._

I gave up on the press and plugged the coffeemaker in, it was just one of those days. I took my time measuring the coffee while shooting glances at the phone as if it were a live grenade, the thought of him calling shouldn’t fill me with dread like this, should it? _Coward_. I poured the water into the container and hit start. I located the Advil, took two, and brought the glass over to the table. Yeah. I was scared. I was scared for what it would be like to be with him, but I was equally scared of what it would mean to not be. And _that_ might be the scariest thing of all. _Bloody coward_. I picked up the phone and took a few long breaths. Oh gods help me.

_You can call now if you want._

Within 10 seconds the phone was ringing.

“Hey.”

The timbre of his voice was enough to make the hairs stand up in my neck. _One. Let’s make a habit of it._ I held back a moan, my lips twitching, and I was back. Just like that. _Fuck me._ I gathered some courage I didn’t have and answered, trying for cool, ending up with a squeak.

“Hey.”

“How are you?”

“I’m good.” A silence settled, and I ransacked my sleep-deprived, hungover brain and found nothing. _One. Let’s make a habit of it._

“Sleep well?”

“No.”

He chuckled darkly. “Good.”

_“What?”_

“I didn’t either.”

Relief rippled through me. _See? Not so bad._ “Good.”

“So.”

“So.”

“What are you doing later?”

“How much later?” I knew had absolutely nothing on, but spending time with Netflix and one’s cat was still a valid Sunday choice, right?

“Around 6.”

I dropped my coy act, I wasn’t fooling myself any more than I was fooling him. “Er, nothing.”

“Want to?”

“Do what?”

“Something.”

“Will I like it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Excellent.”.

“Am I gonna have to dress up?”

“Yes. A little.”

“What does that mean.” _Casual but nice. Fuck off._

“About as much as yesterday. You looked great.”

“Okay…” _Casual but fucking nice. Just ask the man to clarify._

“A looser skirt though.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“I’m serious, I don’t wanna ruin your nice clothes.”

“Then keep your hands to yourself.”

“Yeah. No, that’s not gonna happen.”

“Jesus, Seb.” The clench encompassed even my jaws.

“No ‘jesus Seb’ about it. You’ll look took good regardless.”

“I’m gonna wear a habit.”

“Ohhh. Kinky.”

“Oh my actual god.”

“Don’t take the good lord’s name in vain, what kind of nun are you?”

“Apparently the kinky kind.”

“I’m very glad to hear it.”

“You’re not going to tell me where we’re going, are you?”

“I didn’t plan on it, but if you really want to spoil the surprise…” The pout was audible.

“No. But really. What am I gonna have to wear?” Finally. Some progress.

“I just told you?”

“No. Casual but nice is nothing. It’s so vague that my whole wardrobe was out of the closet yesterday.”

“Really?”

I sighed, not even trying to hide it. “Yeah. We don’t all have personal stylists, Sebastian.”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry. But it’s true. My sense of fashion extends to whatever isn’t in the laundry.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen what you look like when your clothes are in th—”

“Uh-uh. Yeah.” I laid the sarcasm on thick enough, and his laugh sent small currents through my chest. Why couldn’t I just get to stay grumpy, this sappy happiness was going nowhere good. Being grumpy was a lot of work around him though. “Just tell me. A dress? Good shoes? Fancy jewellery?” Not that I actually had any on hand, but still. I might’ve had some costume pieces lying around that didn’t look like leftovers from a Tower heist.

“Bit of everything? Don’t stress about it, just dress like last night. With a looser skirt.”

“Fine.” I hoped the eyeroll translated well enough.

“Great. What are you up to right now?”

“What?” I heard something like an elevator ping and I hissed, “Sebastian? Where are you?”

“You know where.” I could hear the doors slide open. _Fuck_. I was caught like a deer in headlights. I couldn’t decide on anything so I just stood helpless in the middle of the kitchen, swaying indecisively. He knocked. _Oh for fuck's sake._ I looked down on myself, I was wearing the same ratty t-shirt and flannel pants I’d worn when he first showed up, my hair in even more of a mess, and had I removed my makeup last night? I hadn’t even brushed my goddamn teeth yet. _Shit_.

“Aren’t you gonna let me in? Your neighbours are gonna think I’m a stalker as much as I hang around outside your door.”

“I—I’m coming.”

“Great.”

“And fuck you.”

“Not yet.”

I opened the door and just gave him a stare down. At least he had the decency to look sheepish. He also had a paper tray with two venti Starbuck cups. I clicked off the phone and let him in, trying to stay fuming, or even a little irritated, but the truth was I was so stupidly happy to see him that, well. Kinda futile considering. He gave me a perfunctory peck on the cheek, shrugged off his coat, kicked off his boots and just went into the kitchen like he lived there. I took a moment to process before I followed.

“That’s my man.” Nimbus was already making an idiot of himself, he didn’t usually take to people this fast, but of course. _Et tu, Nimbus._ Seb sank down in his usual chair, he’d been here a total of three separate times, and the place felt cold without him. He held one of the cups out to me, I took it and had a taste. It wasn’t a latte—it was sweet and creamy and more of a high-calorie dessert concoction, but so good my eyes almost watered.

“What the fuck is that?”

“White mocha. 3 shots, 2 pumps venti white mocha with extra whip.” He shrugged. “Al—a friend told me to try it, he thought I would like it, and he was right. I have no idea where he came up with it, I mean, white mocha is something every Starbucks have, but I would never have thought to try it. You like it?”

“Hell yes.” I took a big sip, my head cleared, my mood improved, and life in general seemed much more removed from the night’s fear and doubts. Huh.

“I know. It’s amazing. For some reason my friend thought it was really funny I liked it so much, but I have no idea why.” He tasted his own, smacking his lips, a bit of cream getting caught in his beard.

“Here.” I pulled a piece of paper from the roll.

“Oh, thanks.” He wiped it off, and my unspoken offer to lick it off was laid to rest. “So what do you wanna do?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. I mean, I came all this way.”

“How does anyone stand to be around you?”

“Because I’m rich and famous.” He slouched down and stretched his legs, crossing them, putting all of himself on display—and what a display it was. Even the simplest outfit looked stunning on him, the man had worn a green velvet suit in public, for fuck's sake. He had decided on completely casual. And nice. All in black, black henley, black jeans, black belt, black socks. And a black tee peeking out from his collar. He was spectacular, that was obvious, all the fabric hugging all the right places, but there was another quality too. A homely quality. A safe quality. And I found I liked it. Even more than when he looked ready to jump me.

“You look nice.” He said it as a statement, not as flirting. This was going places, and fast.

“Thanks, I guess. But I revealed this tailored piece of couture yesterday.” I was still leaning on the counter, was it too early to presume I could plant myself on his lap? _Yes. Yes, it is._ “Or I guess Friday night.” _Are we sure though?_

“Yes, but since both Friday night and Saturday morning is a bit of a blur to me, it’s like I’m seeing it for the first time.”

“True.”

“I have to admit I was hoping for a habit though. I’ve always wondered what’s underneath those things.”

“This doesn’t count as the second date.” The words tumbled out before I could discern why. _It means you'll stick around for at least that long._

“I know. No previous arrangement. I’m clear on the rules.”

“Okay.” I finally went over and sat down, watching him over my cup.

“So what do you want to do? What were you going to do before I got here?”

“I don’t know. Just stay home, watch a movie, maybe work a little.”

“I was under the impression your day was spoken for on the phone.”

“Yeah, that was a filthy lie.”

“Nice. I’m glad I didn’t believe you one bit then.” He grinned into his cup, a self-satisfied smirk. I let him have it, I didn’t really have the capacity for mental sparring.

“Seb?”

“Yeah?”

“What are we doing?”

“We or I?” He was studying his cup carefully, and I was completely furious with myself.

But I couldn’t really stop. “Both. Either.”

“I’m not sure.”

It hung in the air, I could almost taste it. “Why did you come? Now, I mean.”

“I wanted to see you.”

“You were going to see me tonight. Were you afraid I would stand you up?”

“No... But I was afraid I might.” He might as well have slapped me, and it must have shown on my face. He finally looked at me again. “I didn’t lie when I said it was intense. This. Us.” He folded himself into the chair and faced me fully. “I wouldn’t have bailed. But just the thought that I might was enough that I needed to see you.”

“But if you don—”

“Oh, hell no. I do.” He stroked his hair back with both hands, looking desperate. “I do. But I’m scared. This doesn’t happen to me. I keep my distance, let things take their time, mature.” He put his hand across his face, sighing heavily. “Listen. I’m not sure what’s happening here. I just know I don’t want it to stop.”

My heart calmed to its normal pace again, he sounded like me. I could relate, and more importantly, it made me feel less the idiot. _It means you'll stick around for at least that long._

“Okay.” I'd hoped it wouldn't come out so small and vulnerable, but his words, calming or not, were powerful all the same. Relatable, yes, but just so _unrealistic_.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” I picked on the cardboard band on the cup. “I don't want it to either.”

“Really?”

“Duh.” I smiled. “Been playing it cool.” My cheeks were burning under the grin that spread across the table. “I'm glad it was such a raging success.”

“Yeah. Fooled me.”

“Listen.”

“Yes?”

“Remember you said you wouldn't fuck me over.” I met his eyes. “Okay?”

“Of course.” He leaned forward and reached for my hand, I offered mine instinctively, and I was still stuck by how natural it fit. “I won’t fuck you over.” His voice was so earnest it almost hurt. _Fuck_.

“Okay.” I gave his hand a light squeeze and exhaled, I’d not been aware I wasn’t breathing right, the sudden hit of panic threw me off. “You can fuck me though.” The words just bubbled over, I was almost as surprised as him, but I’d needed to get out of it, I’d felt some grand declarations coming on, and I wasn’t ready. Both for me and for him, but seeing the shock on him was immensely gratifying.

He was struck dumb for a few beats, his mouth half open, his eyelids fluttering, and I grinned widely as I watched him trying to regain his composure. _Yeah. Two can play this game._ He finally decided on an expression, and, unfortunately for me, it was a hungry one. I could almost see his irises receding.

“Well, damn.” He tightened his grip on my hand and started rising, dragging me up with him. “Come on, I’m fucking rearing to go.”

“Not now, dumbass.” I dug my heels in, almost impossible with my chic wool-on-linoleum combo, but he turned back, his whole face twinkling. _Thank fucking god._

“Really?” He kneaded my fingers lightly and pressed them to his mouth, kissing each one in turn. “Are you sure?”

I didn’t even bother to hide the moan, I was just happy that I’d managed to steer us away from the danger, even if it had been me who’d initiated it. Let’s make a habit of it.

“Nope. I’m never sure.” I was proud that my vocal cords were performing at all, all that was noticeable was a slightly ragged quality. _Not bad._ “But I have shit not to do, and we had an arrangement.” I smiled brilliantly and planted a soft kiss on his jaw, stealing a whiff— _oh my fucking god, let’s just do this, no, just don’t_ —and enjoyed the feeling of the beard, feeling his chest expanding against mine, his heart doing a few double takes.

“We did?” He swallowed, and when he met my eyes he wasn’t quite as playful. “Are you sure?” He stroked my hair again, and I knew it was one more touch and then fucking go.

“Yep.” I pecked him on the corner of his mouth and backed off a step. “We sure did.” I shook his hand gently, let myself drown in his eyes for a minute—or a year, but who’s keeping track—just letting the moment linger.

He finally looked away with a deep sigh and chuckled. “Yeah, we did.” He lifted my hand again, planted an almost chaste kiss on the back of it, let go and grabbed my shoulders, keeping me at arm's length. “Yes, we did. And I am nothing if not a patient man. As I have shown. On several occasions.” He leaned in, and I fucking knew he was being an ass, but I still grew heavy in his grip and clenched in anticipation. He stopped half an inch away and sighed angelically, his warm breath washing over my face and neck, and I didn’t even curse myself for being so easily influenced. “Maybe I should go.” He stroked down my arms, carefully avoiding my eyes.

“Yeah.” I studied our feet, our toes were perfectly mirrored, why did that make me happy?

“On the other hand, I do have at least 3 hours before I need to be back in the city.”

Absurdly, it made my heart sink. _Three hours? But it’s only 11 now. Fuck._ I hoped he didn’t read me, but when did that ever happen?

“I have another meeting. With a casting director. The same one I met with yesterday.” His voice was soothing, and I felt my cheeks burn, why the fuck couldn’t I just go with it? _HE WANTS TO BE HERE, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!_

“Oh. Okay.” I kept the tone light, it really was stupid, maybe in a few years I might be able to feel some actual confidence in addition to being aware of it.

“And then I need to get home to change, doesn’t seem fair if you dress up and I don’t. You know, since I need to call my stylist and everything.”

I pulled off the eye roll on cue and hit him in the shoulder before I went back for my mocha. Cooler, but not cold. Still fucking delicious. He followed me, and I lead the way to the couch, gesturing for him to sit.

“We were just gonna watch Netflix. I thought maybe _Stranger Things_.”

“Sounds great! I’ve not watched it yet.” He sank onto the same side he’d occupied two nights ago, and he made it clear he remembered just as well as me. _Only two nights. Damn_. “Yes. This is the best spot.”

“Oh, shut up.” I plumped down as far away as I could manage, I was more relaxed, and that wasn’t necessarily the best thing. “You really don’t want to bring that up again.”

“Oh, I don’t know. As far as I can remember it was great. And you were awesome. And soft.” He started tipping over, and I shoved him, copping a feel of his pecs. _Oh, fuck me_. Those things weren’t packing anything superfluous. He grinned as he leaned back, one arm over the back of the couch, promising fingers on my neck, and I shuddered. _Fuck_.

It went better than expected. _Sort of._ The show was engrossing enough that I actually paid attention, and it seemed he was too. It was almost relaxing, even comfortable. Too comfortable in a sense, but comfortable nonetheless.

After the first episode, I left him to get more coffee and had a quick detour to brush my hair and teeth, splashing some water on my face, conscious I was washing away some cat. Not that it really mattered at this juncture, he’d seen me at my, if not worst, pretty close, and he still came back for more. But I felt better, even if I did hope he’d be man enough to ignore it. So of course he wasn’t.

When I came back, Nimbus had taken my spot and looked at me contemptuously. _Damn_. He really did like the man. _Typical really._ I plopped him in the middle before sitting down again, a little chaperoning couldn’t really hurt. Seb smirked but had the good grace not to comment. _Thank you._ But I was acutely aware of his smile, his raised eyebrows, his knowing gaze, and I studiously ignored both him and the effect he had. Until he angled himself sideways, bit his lip, adjusted his jeans and with a flash I was back. _Jesus. Why?_ I busied myself with the remote, desperate to keep my composure. I’d not thought of _him_ , but the similarities were always enough to be confusing, and it was beginning to wear me thin. _Shit_. I managed to keep my voice steady, tone light, hoping I hit all the right notes. _Shit. Shit. Shit._ If he noticed he didn’t say anything, and we continued to watch, his hand brushing my neck and hair, soon expelling any thought for anyone but the man that owned it.

The show was engrossing, but no longer engrossing enough. His fingers kept carding my hair, grazing my neck, tracing my jaw, and I tried to keep each shudder, each goosebump, each ragged breath under control. I really, really tried. But it was a fool's errand, I realised I’d missed like half the action on screen, was it episode two? Three? And all I was aware of was the heat from him, _why is it so warm,_ and I risked a peek. When did he get so close? Nimbus was gone, so much for that, and I was flush against Seb’s side, my thigh was along his, my arm pressed against him. He wasn’t even pretending to watch anymore, all his focus was on me, his pupils blown, his mouth open, his teeth and tongue folding in on his lip. _Fuck_.

It took three seconds, and at the first small gasp he was on me. I was on my back, my legs spread out, the soft fabric of my pyjama pants doing nothing to shield me from the hard bulge against it, grinding, taking my breath away, my nails clawing his shoulders, his scalp, finding his mouth, finally feeling him in me how it was supposed to be from the start. I moaned into the kiss, a not at all gentle kiss, he wasn’t holding back and I couldn’t even remember why we were ever supposed to. He pulled away to create some room and his hand was tugging frantically at the elastic of my pants. I shot my hips up to meet him as he found his way and slid between my folds, air hitching in his throat when he felt how wet I was, and he sank into me, his teeth gritting against my neck.

“I’m not the only one rearing to go.” It was hoarse and thick, resonating in me, making me wetter than I already was.

“Seb…”

“Fuck. You’re so ready.” He pumped a few times, and I thrust as his thumb found my clit, driving me to the edge almost instantly.

“Seb…” He grinned into my ear and his other hand hooked the back of my pants and dragged them under my ass, my underwear with it and he sat up, pulled out of me and slipped them off, my socks going with. I grabbed his shirt and tried getting him back. I was bursting, I needed the fucking relief, but he laid a damp hand on my ribs, braced against me and lifted my leg, hooked it over his shoulder and dragged his nose on the inside of my thigh, kissing his way closer, and I gave up and laid back. He stopped and watched me, writhing and silently begging, and he didn’t even tease, he looked reverent.

“Damn. You look so good.” He teased my entrance for a few agonising seconds before he twisted his hand and plunged back in as his mouth finally found my clit with a groan, and I couldn’t think, all my attention diverted to his lips and tongue and fingers driving me towards relief, closer and closer, picking up speed, circling and pumping, small wet noises filling my head, and with a last hard thrust I came.

“Fuuuuck.” It would have been embarrassing had it now been so fucking _good_ , the flood of heat and the blinding roar in my head, the intense throbbing of blood making my whole frame shake. He stilled his hand and his head toppled forward, landing open-mouthed on my stomach, warm air washing over me in fast puffs.

“Fuck is right.” His voice was barely a whisper, but it was enough to set me off again.

My hands twined into his hair, his forehead clammy and he peered up at me, grinning weakly, his lips and beard glistening, and I wanted nothing more than his cock inside me. I fisted his sweater again and he followed willingly, his weight pinning me down, his hand teasing its way under my shirt, flicking a nipple, and kissed me deeply. My own arousal spread on my chin and cheeks, and whimpering, I reached down and popped the top button of his pants. He stopped breathing altogether, his tongue still, his whole body frozen, and I opened one more.

“Shit. I don’t hav—” And his phone rang. None of us reacted, despite the loud and intrusive shrill sound. “Fuck, shit and god _damnit_.” He lifted himself off and met my eyes, a mixture of desperation and exasperation and amusement playing, and I couldn’t help the snort. He hid on my shoulder and returned it with a whine, hitting the arm of the couch a few times before he erected himself and pulled the phone out of his back pocket.

His eyes widened, and he looked over at the clock. “I actually have to take this. Jesus fucking christ.” He stayed on his knees in front of me, taking me in, let it ring out and tossed the phone beside me. “Let’s get you sorted first.” He straightened my legs and started working the flannel back on, and I kept on laughing through the whole process, what the fuck else was I going to do? He sent me a dark glare. “You can fucking laugh.”

That set me off to hysterics, and he shook his head.

“Fuck me, that’s the most annoying call ever.”

Through the tears, I could vaguely remember another that came pretty close, but I didn’t have the ability to dwell on it, for which I was grateful. He finished off and rose with a wistful expression, picked up his phone before he extended his hand and helped me up. He stroked my hair, exhaled deeply, shook his head once and swiped to call back. I leaned my forehead into his chest, enjoying his accelerated pulse, and he embraced me, kissed the top of my head before it connected and he let me go. “Hi!”

His voice was 3 octaves too high, and I left him with a smile, feeling strangely giddy, the hard knot of tension temporarily gone, and went into the bathroom. I stood a while in front of the mirror, my whole face flush and excited and my heart receded into its normal pace while I heard him murmur behind me. Well, that almost doesn’t count. I burst out laughing again, I was so happy it was downright ridiculous. I knew I had a ways to go, but at least for now I was convinced. _He really wants this. He really wants me. One. Let’s make a habit of it._

I heard him in the hall, getting dressed.

“Live?”

“In here.”

He poked his head through the door, his shoulder caught by the frame. “Yeah. I have to go.”

“I figured as much.” I rested against the sink, my legs crossed, just seeing him made me ache again.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no. I’m fine.” I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “I’m all fine.”

“Uh-uh. Yeah, I bet.” He grimaced and glared a little. I grinned wider, giddiness returning. He sighed.

“I’m not gonna be able to pick you up, but I’m sending a car if that’s okay?”

“No, I can take the subway.”

“No, don’t be stupid. I’m sending a car.”

I shrugged, I really didn’t care, all that mattered was that I would see him later. “Okay.”

He came in and stood in front of me, his face folded into a mask of profound suffering.

“Awww. Poor man.” I traced his jaw, and he kissed my palm.

“Poor indeed. You think people will care if I whip my dick out and jerk off on the train?”

“No, that should be fine. But why would you need to do that?”

“Oh, shut up.” He kissed me on the cheek. “I’m in fucking agony, I just hope I’ll get it down to at least a semi before I have to sit in front of 5 people and pretend to eat. And care.” He stroked up my arms and kissed me hard once. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.” And with one last squeeze he was gone and I heard the door shut behind him. _Let’s make a habit of it. One._ Momentarily relief aside, it was going to be a long night.

* * *

The car arrived at five, after 6 texts from him apologising he couldn’t pick me up himself, and me reassuring him it was all good. I’d opted for a fitted dress, black with a lace bodice. It was a bit short, which was worrisome, it was hilarious to keep thinking in terms of least amount of quick access, but judging by how this was playing out I felt the approach was a sound one. I'd put on some hose as a slight deterrent, the heels were sleek and black, I'd lucked out on the jewellery, I'd forgotten I had an understated white gold necklace set with a row of small rubies and earrings to match, courtesy of my grandparents for my 25th birthday. I still wore my coat though, it was too cold for anything else, but it was a nice coat so I felt quite well prepared for whatever.

I felt a bit awkward in the car alone, the driver was nice, but a town car was something I'd heard of but never experienced. At least he'd not sent a stretch. I was strangely calm, a residual effect from the realisation I'd had, and yes, the fucking orgasm. I'd barely made it into the shower after he'd left, my legs had had a late reaction and turned to jello when the hot water hit. But it was the smallest price I'd ever paid for anything, and, as bad as I felt for him, not at all, I was kinda glad the deal was still on. After the afternoon’s escapades I was even more appreciative of the price at the end. _Let’s make a habit of it._ The prospect was getting less and less scary, which was worrisome but also something I refused to examine further.

The ride went by fast, the traffic was light, and I got more and more curious as we neared the destination. Curious, but not prepared. I saw the billboards and headers grow bigger as we came closer, and by the time the car pulled up by the Richard Rodgers Theatre and I stepped out, I was positively elated. HAMILTON. Fucking hell. I’d been trying to get tickets for months, the one time I’d been set to go I’d come down with the flu. _Fuck yeah._

He was standing a little off the entrance, and I waved to catch his attention. He practically beamed and hurried over, hugged me and kissed my cheek before he took my hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm.

“I can’t believe this. You just happened to have tickets?” I was still gaping a little, not quite believing it.

“I called around. You’ve not seen it before?”

“No. I haven’t. Thank you.” I squeezed his arm and he covered my hand with his.

“My pleasure. I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it.” We strolled towards the gathering crowd.

“You look great.”

“Thank you. But you’ve not really seen it yet.”

He ran his eyes over me. “Oh, I’ve seen plenty. You look good enough to eat.”

 _Jesus. That lasted long._ I wasn’t proud of the slight wobble, but he took obvious great pleasure in it.

“Best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

My face was on fire and I fought and lost spectacularly in bringing my mind back to civilized society. _Keep it together._ “Fuck you.”

I squirmed again and he chuckled in my ear, low enough that the people around us wouldn't notice. He grinned, lifted my hand and kissed it, and I saw something glitter on his middle finger. I did a double take and turned his hand around; the ring was silver, a thick braided band set with small green gemstones, and I had to force myself to look away. I felt his stare, first at me, then at the ring, and his grin grew positively wolfish. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ I shivered as he breathed into my ear again, wishing a portal could swallow me, did he really need more ways to drive me insane?

“I didn't know you were into rings, miss Knudsen.” He worked the ring down his finger, rolled it around in my palm, letting me feel the girth, and I hissed. He kissed my earlobe, letting me feel a little tongue, and I thought my hand would burst into flames. “Between sunglasses and rings, I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you.” He slipped the ring on my finger, sliding it up and down, and I moaned weakly. “Maybe I should take you home and find out.”

 _Dammit. You're pathetic. Have some willpower. Let’s make a habit of it. You said you go out, let's go out. You need to be able to spend more than 3 minutes with the man without overloading._ But my brain was stuck, a slideshow of images of him between my legs, sucking and licking, that fucking ring on his finger, the feel of it as he entered me, sliding up and down, slowly, languidly, and I nearly came on the spot.

“Yes. Take me home.” He stared at me, eyebrows up, his mouth half open, his tongue between his teeth and his grin widened.

“What? Really?”

“Fucking really.” I hissed through gritted teeth, I was almost angry, and I really wanted to watch this show, I’d wanted to for fucking ages, but there was no way this was going to distract me from it. Might as well try for another night. _No! Get a fucking grip!_ I sighed and met his eyes. “No. Not really.”

He looked both happy and slightly disappointed. “Good. I really wanted to show you a good time. I worked hard to get these tickets, the seats are excellent.” He was a little flushed too, my mind was apparently not the only one capable of creating surround sound visuals. He took a moment to collect himself before he put his lip/teeth combo on display. “Besides…”

I swallowed, my hand pulsing slightly in tune with the growing ache. “What?”

“It will be fun to stay out”—his eyes were glittering in excitement and my heart skipped several beats—“with you wearing that thing.” His voice dropped to a mere whisper. “Thinking about what I could do with it.” He pushed the ring up my middle finger and closed my fist, securing it in place.

 _Jesus fucking christ._ I could feel the actual drops spilling out from my panties, and the twitch must have been clearly visible. “Fuck you.” I tried to put some force behind it, but it came out as a soft exhale, I was becoming increasingly conscious of where we were.

“If it’s any comfort I will be walking around with this.” He embraced me, shifting himself so he could press against me, he was already hard, and my mouth curled despite the renewed flush, I could imagine him trying to hide that for long. He let out a low groan. “You look so fucking beautiful when you're all hot and blushing.” I met his gaze, his words swelled out in my chest and I almost teared up, his eyes still playful but there was an urgency behind them that shifted the mood. This was never going to be easy. The crowd started moving, and we were swallowed up, ache, throbbing and all, my hand clutched around the ring and him looking like Christmas came early. Wow. This was going to be great.

We got in okay, found our excellent seats, 2nd-row stalls, smack in the middle and sat down before arranging our coats. His eyes widened slightly when he saw what I actually wore, which did nothing to abate the extremity of the situation, but did everything to cause him to shift sideways and lay his coat on his lap, his dress pants not really solid enough to not advertise what was going on.

“Fucking hell.” He was actually blushing more than me, and I leaned in, my lips touching him as I spoke.

“Suits you fucking right.” I thread my hand into his, the ring making its presence known and he swallowed.

“Yeah, I realise that might have backfired a little.” He’d shot me a look. “But it’s not like I wore that just t—” His eyes clamped shut as I moved under his coat and palmed his cock, his hand grabbing my wrist to stop me. “Fuck.”

I did a quick survey to make sure we didn’t have to an attentive audience, the room was starting to settle in, and the lights were going to be dimmed any second. _Fuck_.

“Truce?”

“Uh-uh.”

I withdrew my hand and let it rest in his, consciously diverting my focus to the stage, determined that I was going to enjoy the hell out of it. And I did. For a while. _Fuck this guy to Hades._

We emerged from the stuffy theatre into the clear evening and stood for a while, letting the fresh air wash over us. He had his arm around me, tugging my coat closer, but truth be told I needed the cold more. It had been wonderful, yes, even better than I’d hoped, I was completely in love with the play, and had my body allowed it I’d have gone straight online and written 5k words of praise about it. But my body was in fucking agony, the relief from earlier just a faint memory, my legs were screaming in protest of having to work and my chest was heaving from lack of oxygen. My sole source of comfort was that he too looked strained, which actually served him fucking right.

It had lasted until after the recess, we’d stayed where we were and actually managed to talk and discuss the play. I’d been almost bouncing out of my seat in excitement, and he’d shared my enthusiasm even if he’d seen it several times before. We’d been doing great, and then the lights dimmed for the second act. My hand was resting in his, the ring just a dull beacon, and I’d let my guard down. Not that I was surprised, if I’d come to know anything about him it was the immense pleasure he got from knowing how goddamn worked up he got me, but still. It was beyond the pale.

He’d started twisting the ring, it seemed almost subconscious, and for a few minutes that’s what I’d thought it’d been. But when he started working it off my finger and onto his own I’d caught on. I’d tried half-heartedly to swat him away, and he’d just left his hand on the armrest, barely touching me, and that had been fucking enough to sink me. He’d kept staring at the stage as he’d moved over and just started dragging his fingers down my leg, up the inside of my thigh, searing through the hose, making me swell and overflow, and even if I had, proudly and with an immense effort, managed to keep track of what was happening in front of me, well. Something had been on my mind, and Hamilton wasn’t it.

And so here we were, all calm and cool in the night. I wondered how visible my heated face was in the dark.

“Well, that was interesting.” Even his voice was strained.

“Uh-uh.” I wanted to climb him right there, and I thought maybe the mass of people spilling out behind us might take issue.

“Good play, huh.”

“Fucking fantastic.” He looked at me, and I shot him a glance, hoping it read furious. It didn’t. I laughed. “Oh, fuck you. Seriously, fuck you.”

“Me? What did I do?” He looked almost convincingly contrite, but the mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away.

“Oh, shut up.” I stretched my legs and shook them a little, they were working their way back to normal, which was too bad really, had they not maybe I could have had an excuse to climb him. “Imminent cardiac arrest aside, thank you.”

“Cardiac arrest, huh?” He turned full against me and started doing my coat up, making sure no one noticed how he kept stroking my hips and waist and rubbed a nipple lightly through the lace. I grinned and rolled my eyes through the trembling, what the fuck else could I do? I was damned if he didn’t and I was twice damned if he did, and I really wanted to ride him all the way to hell.

“Yeah. Fucking cardiac arrest.”

“What a way to go though.” He kissed my nose, the sweetness being so at odds with the rest that my heart jumped a little more. He hovered by my mouth until I closed the distance and pulled me closer as we melted into each other, and suddenly the throng of people passing didn’t mean anything at all.

He’d made reservations at an Italian place nearby, and we walked over, the tension somewhat abated for the moment, and I was again struck with how much I enjoyed the calm between the insane bouts of lust. They were great, I was practically living for them, but they could be a bit overwhelming—tonight a massive case in point.

The meal was excellent, the conversation expansive, the conversation flowing more easily every time we were together, and aside from the overwhelming terror at that thought, _let’s make a habit of it,_ it was the best night yet. He kept riling me up during dinner, the ring added to his already extensive arsenal, but it was just so easy, so goddamn fun. We were both in fairly high spirits when we left the restaurant and he called for a car, leaving us a few minutes to cool down before it arrived, and so I wasn’t quite as prepared as I should have been.

The first half of the ride went fine, we were both behaving admirably, being perfectly cordial and not like hormone-ridden teenagers, and I gave us top marks and gold stars. So I relaxed and watched him watch my hand, glance at me, smile, everything calm and easy. Which was too bad because when we were ten minutes away from my house everything amped up to 11 again.

Whatever had been suppressed after the couch and the play and the ring just resurfaced with a vengeance. I just thanked him again for the play, making small talk, trying to not think about that I’d soon have to say goodnight, and I felt his hand in my hair. I turned to see him asking for permission and my whole centre flared up. He was on me like before, his hand reaching under my dress, his tongue crashing into mine, tasting, demanding, and I welcomed him fully, straddling him, my nails scratching his scalp and neck, I felt how hard he was, how much he wanted me, and I became desperate. I wanted him to tear my clothes off, I wanted to ride him right there in the car, I wanted him to bury himself so deep inside me that he’d never come out, and I knew he wanted it too. We were all hands and nails and lips and hot skin, we were grinding and moaning and sweating and completely lost to the world and I could’ve stayed right there like that forever. _Let’s make a habit of it. God yes._

Until, of course, a sharp rap on the privacy partition brought us back and we realised the trip was over. I looked down at him, and he met me with a sheepish grin that didn't quite match his blown and hooded eyes, it was startling and something I couldn’t quite digest.

Wordlessly, he buzzed down the dark glass and handed the driver a tip while we collected ourselves, untangled and exited the car, in total disarray and still out of breath. He chuckled as he took us in.

“It always fucking escalates.”

“Yeah, it kinda always does.” I returned the laugh raggedly, trying to flatten my coat and check my hose for runs. “I wonder why that is.”

“Yeah. I wonder.” He shook his coat out and inspected mine before he lead us towards the door. It didn’t even occur to me to protest, my mind was too preoccupied to find loopholes in the deal, was this torture in any way worth it, and if it wasn’t, and it felt like it wasn’t, why the fuck should we go through with it? The elevator pinged, and my door loomed ahead. I opened my mouth to make my case when he stopped me with a finger to my lips. He walked me back to the wall, again bracing himself, keeping the distance.

“Listen. I know you think I’m doing this because I want to stay. And it’s true, right now I can’t think of a single thing I want more than to go in there with you and fuck you until I can’t see straight. But that’s not really it. I want to go in there with you not because I want to fuck, not because I want to stay, but because I don’t want to _leave_. And that’s why I won’t. Not yet.”

I couldn’t think of a single thing to say, not one.

“So, for now, this is goodnight. I have to leave for a few days, I’ll be back on Thursday, and I would really like to call you then.”

I nodded weakly as my heart sank and rose at the same time. It was too much, I couldn’t really make sense of it.

“Great. Thank you. Thank you for a wonderful day.” His voice went soft, almost pleading but as I opened my mouth to respond he covered it with a hungry kiss, groaning again as he pushed off, dropped something in my hand and left after whispering the word I had expected but still sent shivers down my spine. _Two_.


	11. Three.

__

_Seb and Alex. Photo:[LK](http://mischief-in-mirkwood.tumblr.com/)_

_Two. Two._ Two whole days left. Two whole days left until I could see him or feel him again. Huh. _That means just as long as you’ve actually spent with him. Yeah, yeah._ The two weeks of the last absence had flown by in comparison, but I’d not had any hope of ever seeing him again then. But now it was an inevitability, and it was encompassing nearly every minute.

I’d not spent the time in a brainless stupor though, even if his presence or lack thereof did seep into most of my days. I was undoubtedly obsessed, but I wasn’t an idiot. Well, I wasn’t a complete idiot. I knew I had a life outside of him, even if I couldn’t really feel it at the moment. And by the moment I meant every waking one. _Fuck_.

But I did fairly well. I did my chores, I worked, I even called friends and went out to lunch. One of them, Leila, who had known me since I moved here and was therefore more perceptive than the others, kept looking at me, a small smile playing the whole time. We’d known each other for four months, more or less since I’d arrived, but she was nice enough to wait until we were alone before she came straight out and asked. She held me back under the pretence of work—we spent a lot of time together just working on our respective theses, hers was on _Feminism in Classic Literature - from Austen to Angelou—_ and she ordered fresh coffee while I sat, awaiting the third degree. It didn’t come, which just went to show what a class act she was. She only looked at me for a long time while I pretended to watch the street life. When I finally met her eyes, she cleared her throat, and I braced myself.

“So. Everything alright?” She looked both concerned and amused, clearly something was up with me, and I cursed myself for not being a better actress. Just went to show how abysmally I had to fail every time I was with him.

“Yeah. Sure. Why?” Meeting her gaze, and I saw I didn't fool her in the slightest. I'd not been aware that my turmoil had been so apparent, again I might consider picking up some tips from people better versed in the art than me. I felt a faint flush, hardly noticeable after the excess lately—I'd been worried that the colour would be etched into my cheeks after the weekend.

“No. I just… You just seem… different. I guess I'm just curious.” She smiled warmly. “I'm glad though.”

“For what?”

“Well, whatever has happened, it’s obviously something good.”

I drew a deep breath, relieved she didn’t intrude further, I was aching to be honest, but it was too soon, I didn’t know her well enough. I trusted her completely, I just didn’t know how she’d react. And what if she didn’t believe me? If she thought I was delusional. But she left it hanging and let me decide without judgement.

For which I was grateful. I didn’t like to lie, and this was something I hardly could believe myself, no way was I going to try to explain it to someone else. I had friends back home that would have been more natural confidantes, but they, on the other hand, were also more likely to implode if they were privy to it. _I am dating Sebastian Stan_. Two proper dates and two informal ones, one of them breakfast, had to constitute that status, and that wasn’t even counting a sleepover and well... Sex. Twice. Yeah, no way was I gonna tell anyone, no matter how much I wanted to.

Which was both good and bad. One the one hand, to have an ear and advice, just an outlet other than an indifferent cat, would have been fucking wonderful. I tried to imagine unloading and rant and rave to someone, and just thinking about it brought some much-needed relief. On the other hand, it was a _warm_ secret. It wasn’t something I really wanted to share—it was _mine_. It was precious in a way. And it had that ethereal, almost magical quality, and being a lover of magic and fairy tales, this was my personal one. Obviously, I didn’t spend my days really dwelling on those aspects, it was also sickeningly sweet and obnoxious, I was a grown woman. And truth be told, the relationship was too physical in nature to really warrant that level of poetry. _Ugh. Pathetic_. No, sarcasm was my only defence from not falling apart, and he also instilled that in spades. _Two. Two. Two though_. Fuck me. I chose my words carefully.

“Yeah. It’s good. I’m good, I mean.” I inhaled and puffed my cheeks, they were definitely tingling, and I didn’t need a more visible physical betrayal while I was trying to keep cool. “Just had a good weekend. Tried some new stuff.” I averted my eyes again, the blush was creeping up and her eyes crinkled. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

“Uh-uh.” She grinned and sipped her coffee. “I’m not gonna press, but I’ve been worried for a time. A couple of weeks to be precise.”

 _Oh goddamn_. I sighed. “Yeah. Fuck. I guess”—I met her gaze over my own mug—“I didn’t think it was so obvious.”

“Probably not to anyone else. No one has said anything.” Her expression softened. “Listen. I don’t know you that well, but I care about you, and I just want you to know that I’m here. You can talk to me if you want to.”

We’ve never been especially intimate, so I was a little taken aback, but it was a good feeling. I missed having close friends around. But I still couldn’t tell her.

“No—I-I've had some… developments. Personal ones.” I racked my brain as to how to tell without telling.

“You’ve met someone.”

I exhaled. Yes, why not. I could tell her that much. I didn’t have to tell her _who_. “Yes.” My cheeks were burning, seemed my bar for embarrassment were getting lower and lower, I never used to blush like this. “I’ve met someone.” I let out the plural _s_ , no need to bring that particular detail into the equation.

“Huh. And it’s going well?”

“Yeah. Right now it’s going very well.”

“Was this someone the reason you were so down before?”

 _One of the reasons, yeah._ I cleared my throat. “Yeah. But that’s sorted. It was a misunderstanding.”

“Good. I’d hate to see you hurt.”

 _Me too, Leila. Me fucking too_. “Yeah, I know. But I’m hoping that won’t happen.” As I said the words my stomach sank, just hearing it out loud sent chills down my spine. It must have shown, she suddenly leaned forward with worry written all over her face. When had I become so easy to read, for fuck’s sake?

“Just be careful, okay.” She patted my hand. “I’ll be here if you need me, just be careful. Okay?”

I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. Knowing that she worried was a comfort, maybe I did have a confidante if everything turned to shit. I stopped the thought in its track. Nope. _Don’t go there_.

* * *

After he’d left I’d had trouble just making it inside before I sagged under the pressure. I’d just stood leaning my back against the door. For forever. His words ringing, the whole evening, and day, replaying in my head. It’d just been a weekend, but it felt like weeks, like months. I wasn’t sure how, but the intensity was a part of it, both mine, but especially his. It was unreal, the relentless pursuit, he could have anyone, and he wanted _me_. I believed him, but it was still so _weird_. I was no one, I was not extraordinary. I didn’t have low self-esteem, I was fully aware of my worth, but damn. This was shooting high. And not just him, but—yeah. I believed him, but I wasn’t sure I wasn’t delusional. Maybe I’d hurt my head more than I thought when I crashed into him that day at Starbucks. But if it was a figment of my, true, sometimes overactive imagination, it still didn’t change how I felt. _Two. Two. Let’s make a habit of it._

I'd expected the word, but not the object weighing heavily in my hand, and definitely not the words that had superseded it. _Not because I want to stay, but because I don’t want to leave._ I’d opened my hand and looked at the ring, besides the obvious it had a strange symbolic quality. _It’s just a glorified fucking sex toy, don’t read anything into it._ But how come I half felt I should be wearing a letterman jacket and a swing dress. _Fuck. Too fucking late_.

How long I’d stood there, my eyes shut, heart both sinking and soaring, my fist clamped around the ring, my knees unsteady, I didn't know. I didn't move until I felt something soft knocking my ankle, and I looked down on Nimbus making a fuss.

“Hi, baby. Am I being stupid again?” He sat down and considered, he'd seen me in far worse conditions, and I couldn't help feeling this amount of judgement was a bit unfair.

“Mrrpt.”

“Yeah. You're right.” I got my feet working, slipped off the heels and picked him up, draping him on my shoulder while he kneaded me lightly and stuck a cold nose in my ear. At least it forced me to concentrate on something else for half a second. _Because I don't want to leave. Let's make a habit out of it._ I deposited the fur lining on the bed where he watched while I stripped down. I found a new pair of pyjamas and a fresh shirt—a clear head was the ticket and that wasn't happening if I wore the same as this afternoon. There was also the question of stains, but that was a thought best left alone. I cleared away my clothes and disposed of the laundry in the bathroom before I stopped to take toll. I looked strangely normal. A bit flushed, but much better than I’d feared. My makeup was a bit of a mess, but that was expected, I was just glad I’d opted for gloss and not lipstick when I’d left the house. As I got ready for bed, washing and removing my face, I became faintly aware of the ring on my thumb, I’d not even realised I’d slipped it on. Huh. I finished up and swung by the kitchen for a drink and a couple of preventive Advils, I didn’t want another thing to disturb my sleep. I picked up Nimbus and headed to bed, settled down after allowing him some time to curl up against my neck, avoiding the memory of another weight behind me.

* * *

So after a somewhat restless night, I'd made the non-idiot decision to not let him completely derail my sanity and life. Hence the lunch and the work and the just simply living, not staying at home moping and obsessing. Sure, he was Sebastian Stan, but I'd been happy without him for a long time, and I would be happy without him again. _Two_. Well, yeah. And with him. Hopefully. In _two_ days.

I’d steered Leila away from my predicament, and we’d moved on to other subjects, talking and laughing, and even if I'd not really said anything of substance it was as if a wall was breached. She'd not _told_ me anything, but she'd shown me a lot. I was really happy about that; if nothing else, I'd gained a valuable relationship through him. One more in the pro column, making my life so tumultuous that people felt they had to intervene.

When we'd finally finished up and said our goodbyes and see you soons, I'd felt more grounded. Still on edge, every time he made an appearance in my mind—aka constantly—my whole body flushed from the warmth in my core, but calmer. I knew whatever happened, I could deal. It wasn't even about the sex anymore. Well, not only about the sex, but to be honest I half expected that to be a bust, how could anything measure up to those expectations? Oh well, that was at least two days away. _Let’s make a habit of it._

I’d spent the rest of the day working from home, but today I’d taken the bold step of returning to the world for real and gone to campus and the Butler library. I loved the library, well, libraries in general, but this one was special. Sure, the selection was incredible, the staff was fantastic, the architecture was stunning, but most of all it had that atmosphere—that historical air that made you feel you were part of the past, that you were a scholar of old, it was almost role-playing, and it was motivating and inspirational as fuck. At least usually motivating and inspirational as fuck. Today I’d been there almost 5 hours and it left me cold. Fuck. _Two. Two. Two_. With a sigh I resigned, packed up my computer, gathered my things, extracted my phone and turned the sound back on. I was still in the process of getting dressed when it rang.

I fumbled through my pocket to find it again, my scarf hanging askew and my bag almost falling off. For some reason my phone ringing made me more skittish these days, another thing that left me both annoyed at myself and happy just because of the giddiness that arose from it. He’d not called during his absence, but he’d texted twice. Once to say sorry he had to leave, that he felt like shit about it, and once to confirm our date on Thursday. I’d responded with what I thought was ease and confidence, even if I’d agonised for several minutes and drafts before I replied.

In short, my phone was a source of fun these days, and I eagerly pulled it out only to stop short when there was an unknown number flashing instead of Seb’s. I was so perplexed I let it ring out, I was not in the habit of answering unknown calls, and I wasn’t about to start. But the number rang a faint bell even if no name came attached to it. I was looking it up when a text came in notifying me I had a voice message. Huh. I clicked the link just as the phone rang again, identifying Seb. I pressed connect.

“Hi. It’s me.” He sounded a little out of breath. “I mean Seb.”

“Yeah, I gathered as much.” I couldn’t help the smile that coloured my voice.

“Where are you? At home?”

“No. I’ve just left the library.” I hefted my bag and secured it as I sat down on the step, ignoring the cold stone, my legs were trembling slightly for some unknown reason. “Where are you?”

“At home.” He paused a spell, letting me catch up. “Or near enough, I’m ten minutes away. Are you at Columbia?”

“Yeah.” I had trouble getting the words out, I didn’t quite understand what he was saying. “You’re—back?” I hesitated, my heart skipping several beats.

“Yeah.” He became muffled, and I could hear faint sounds of traffic in the background.

My head was racing. What? _But two. I’m not ready. I’m no—_

“Sorry. I had to give directions, there’s a roadblock.” He was even more breathless. “I managed to reschedule tomorrow’s late meeting to this morning. I figured—” His tone suddenly had that ridiculous tinge of uncertainty he displayed on occasion. “Is this a bad time?”

I took a moment to quiet my mind before I could answer.

“Live?”

“No.” I coughed my voice back. “No, it’s not.” I inhaled and banked on speech to carry on the exhale. “No. it’s not.” Finally the shock gave way to a smile, and I could speak again.

“Oh good. I got worried there for a second. I didn’t mean to assume.”

“No, I think you did.” I laughed at his small attempt at a protest before he returned it. “But it’s okay. Seems you were right.”

“Hang on.” He covered the microphone again, and I waited impatiently. I’m only human. “Sorry. I’m here.”

I could hear him moving and wishing the driver a nice day, then the sound of traffic and a greeting before an elevator opened, all accompanied by his breathing in my ear. Fuck. Heat spread through me, rerouting my blood down, down, and I didn’t mind the chill from the step anymore. Well, that lasted longer than expected. _Not long though_. I thanked some omnificent force he couldn’t see me squirm. In my defence, I’d not seen or heard him for two days, and I shouldn’t give myself too hard a time.

“Sorry. I just had to get inside.” He cleared his throat. “I’m almost there.” I heard the doors slide up with a ping and he was moving again. “You said library, at Colombia? Uptown?”

I suddenly realised I had no idea where he lived. “Yeah. Butler.”

“Great.” He fumbled with something, presumably his keys. He let something down on the floor with a thud. “Do you want to come down?” His tenor dropped, and he sounded teasing. “I’ll buy you a coffee.”

And all coherency disappeared from my head. _Not two. Now. Shit_. I was gaping, my jaw slack, the words a pounding mantra: _now now now, I’m not ready, am I ready, shit shit shit._

“Live?”

“Yes.”

The line went quiet, and I was afraid he’d hung up, had I really taken that long?

“Yes, you’re there, or yes you want to come down?”

By the hesitant tone I realised with horror that he’d interpreted my silence as hesitation, and I wanted to scream. HOW THE FUCK CAN YOU BE SO UNCERTAIN, YOU MUST FUCKING KNOW THAT I’M FUCKING CRAZY ABOUT YOU? But I didn’t. _Thank all gods above and below._

“Both. I can come down.” His sigh and chuckle calmed me somewhat, and I managed a slight hold over the situation. “When?”

“Er—Now?”

My spine tingled, and I struggled to hide a tremble. “Okay. What stop?” _That’s it, stay cool, stay cool, you’ve got this, stay cool._

“Astor Place.”

“Okay.” I checked my watch. “I think there might be a train leaving in about 10 minutes, I’ll send a text when I’m on it.” _You’re doing great, honey. Keep it up._ For once I was thankful that a) that my brain never shuts up and b) that it chose to be supportive instead of beating me up.

“Excellent. I’ll see you there.” He lowered his voice again. “I can’t wait.”

Damn. “Me neither. Bye.”

“Bye.”

We rung off, and I just sat for a long time until I remembered I had a train to catch. I pocketed my phone and grabbed my bag as I rose and trotted towards the train, my mind not able to catch up or take in the implications, another thing to be grateful for, if it had I’d be paralysed. Sure, I’d known, I’d fantasised, I’d thought about almost nothing else for weeks, and the last days had obviously not abated anything. But this. Now. It might happen. It was fucking happening. The deal was three, and this was three and I needed to shove that far enough back in my head so I could function. I had a train to catch, and I really didn’t want to be late. _Three. Three. Three._

The station wasn’t as bad as I feared, most afternoon traffic went in the opposite direction, and I even scored a seat. I sent the text without thinking and put the phone away without waiting for a reply. It wasn’t until the doors slid shut and we started moving I almost lost the ability to breathe.

True, the air on the subway was suboptimal on the best of days, but it was downright suffocating today. I felt small beads of sweat forming, and I had to close my eyes and concentrate hard to relax enough to avoid a panic attack. I was aware of every bounce and rattle, on every slow second that strangely seemed to race towards the inevitable end, I was terrified out of my mind and I wanted it so bad I was choking on it. _Shit, shit, shit._

I concentrated so hard on keeping it together I almost missed the stop and had to scramble to get off as the doors closed. I skidded out on the platform late enough that I felt the air pressure behind me as the train started moving again, and I walked on wobbly knees far enough that I could collect myself doubly and straighten my clothes and hair. A mirror wouldn’t go amiss, nor a shower, a change of clothes, full makeup, three nights sleep and a bottle of vodka, but no such luck. _He’s seen you in worse. Has he though?_ I walked out past the turnstile and tried not to smell myself, hoping I hadn’t caught the climate in the carriage—why hadn’t I just told him I had to go home first? _And postpone seeing him for three hours_. I couldn’t help the snort that escaped me, and I was enjoying rifling through the 10365 reasons I was the stupidest person on earth for thinking this could go well when I saw him at the top of the stairs, grinning widely. I stopped short for a moment to catch my breath— _has he always been so goddamn beautiful?_ —before I returned the smile and felt a strange calm settling in my chest. _Finally_.

He closed the distance and shifted the cardboard tray to one hand as he relieved me of my bag and buzzed my cheek, looking so goddamn happy I had to laugh, my heart positively soaring when he’d hoisted the bag on his shoulder and held out his hand. I accepted it, tried to ignore the fucking delight over how well it fit around mine, and let myself be tugged up on the sidewalk. He lead us over to a stone bench, set down his burdens and turned to me, pulling me in for a hug.

“Hi.” The proximity of his body was overwhelming. Calm or not, I was still on edge from the stress, my hands were clutching the back of his coat as a lifeline and my hips may have ground against him. A little. Slightly. Barely if at all. I felt him rumbling in response to my low moan. Fuck. _Had to let that slip out, huh._ Oh, well. Maybe it could ease the stupid insecurity he kept showing. He released me far too soon, but then again he was maybe still aware we were standing in public. “I missed you.” He reached down and freed the two Starbucks cups from the tray, of course it was Starbucks. I took the offered one and saw my name on the band. _Fuck_.

“Yeah. Me too.” I backed away half a step and took him in properly. He was wearing that damn fitted peacoat again, soft red scarf peeking out of the collar, and on his head a fucking cap. But at least he’d chosen another one, and he chuckled when he saw me noticing it.

“Hey. I figured a little privacy.”

“Uh uh.” I sipped and savoured the sweetness of the mocha, pleased he’d just assumed I’d want to repeat the pleasure. He tasted his own and frowned a little.

“Sorry, I tried to time it but it’s so cold it cooled on the walk over.”

“No, it’s great. This must be a good frappe too.”

“Yes, it is.” He grinned again, lightening up his whole face, how could he be so happy to see me?

_Shush. Don’t start again. Right. No point. Head in the game, Live. Head in the game. We’ve been over this. He does fucking LIKE you. Yeah, yeah._

“I’m so glad you could come. I was really hoping I’d not make a fool of myself.”

I rolled my eyes so hard I felt dizzy. “Yeah, such a risk.”

His eyes did that twinkle thing, and he gave me a hint of lip as he had another drink. “Well, for all I know you could’ve had the whole week planned out.” His self-esteem was clearly more than boosted, he was back to his usual self-assured obnoxiousness and I relaxed again.

How he did that, make my emotional state ebb and flow in tune with his I had no idea, just his proximity was enough, hell for days just the _promise_ of his proximity had been more than enough to send me reeling and this wasn’t the time for self-examination. Raging lust aside, no matter what I had told myself and even Leila just the day before, I was in too deep and I had been for weeks, I’d just not allowed myself to examine it. Sure, I’d played with the idea, but now, standing in front of him, feeling his gaze and his joy, I knew that whatever this was I was not going to walk away unscathed, and I didn’t want to. And I couldn’t bring myself to care, he made me happy and I was revelling in it.

“Oh, yeah. So many plans. My calendar is packed.” I was momentarily struck dumb as I followed his eyes up and down my body. “I, er...” I lost my train of thought as he was staring at my mouth, something hungry lurking behind the smile. I shook my head to clear it and gave it another go. “You’re lucky I wanted to come on such short notice.” _Oh my fucking god_. I realised what I’d said as I saw his brow shoot up and his expression turning mischievous.

“That turns out great, I want you to come too.” He waited until I shoved him before he took a graceful step back, shaking in silent laughter.

I was just glad I had some scarf and collar to hide in, my cheeks were on fire just on schedule, I’d held out almost 10 minutes, all in all I was still doing great. “Oh, shut up.”

He stepped back in and embraced me again, almost squishing my cup as he kissed my forehead and pressed his cheek against mine, breathing softly into my ear. “I had that scheduled for later on, but that can be rearranged.”

My heart straight up stopped while I tried to get my bearings. _Yep. This is it. Well, he said he was rearing to go._ I’d known of course, but still. Damn. I squirmed against him, cursing the stupid cup, but the fact that he was squirming quite a bit himself made me appreciate it a little. I worked some air back into my lungs.

“Here? Really?” At least the words carried and his head sank down on my shoulder. “That’s a lot of PDA.”

He groaned a little, ground against me enough to let me feel the effect I had, and we both inched back, still laughing but a bit more breathless.

“Yeah.” He sighed wistfully and tugged at my hair. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat, chugged some coffee and released me, reached down for my bag and straightened. “Okay. You want to walk a little?”

“Sure. Where?” I reined my own self in and didn’t add the “is the nearest hotel”.

“Just around. I’ve been stuck in planes and cars all day, I’d like some fresh air.” He offered his hand again, and I fell in step with him as we started down the street. “Besides, I’m desperate to move and get warm.” He muttered something behind his cup that sounded suspiciously like “even if there are better ways to do that.”

He didn’t miss the cocked brow, but I graciously held back my retort, a little coyness never hurt anyone. Besides, if today was true to form I wouldn’t last long.

“Did I tell you how great you look?” He wasn’t looking at me, but I still felt a flash of heat reappear.

There it was, I lasted 3 yards. Good. “No, you didn’t. I was getting worried you’d missed my efforts.”

“Nope. Never.” He grinned.

“Good. Otherwise I might stop trying.”

He squeezed my hand. “You know you don’t have to try.”

 _Shit_. “Uh-uh. Yeah, well.” _Easy does it_. I glanced down and registered his black skinny jeans, they were just as indecent as usual, the heavy boots elicited welcome thoughts about walls and traction, and I was reassured I wouldn’t have to worry about getting cold any time soon. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“I better, I spent far too long deciding what to wear.”

“Oh my fucking god.” I shoved him gently, no need to assail innocent pedestrians. He laughed heartily, let go of my hand and slung his arm over my shoulder, waiting until I’d fastened my grip around his waist to start moving again. _Damn him_. Silence settled and I tried to take in our surroundings, not dwelling on his body moving beside mine, his hand cradling my ribs, the sound of our steps perfectly synchronised, his slightly elevated breathing, his— _Yeah, tough luck._

“Hang on.” We’d reached a trash can, and I needed to warm my free hand. I drained the rest of my coffee just as he finished his—of course that was another match. We deposited the cups and he turned to me, his mouth open to speak but he stopped when he saw me stuff my hand in my pocket. He twisted out of my grip and took both of my hands, rubbing them between his.

“My god, you’re freezing. Why didn’t you say anything?” His was strangely warm in comparison, and I just enjoyed the heat.

I shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s just I didn’t really plan on spending a lot of time outside so I didn’t bring gloves.”

He shook his head and pulled out a pair of his own. He started pulling them on and I gave him an exasperated look, but I couldn’t hide a smile nor the relief of the warmth. He blew on my hands and squeezed my fingers, keeping my eyes locked in his. The warmth spread from my fingers to my toes by way of my midriff, and again I wanted to just end the agony of the wait. But dammit. I loved this, I lov— _No. Not that. Not yet_. That was too far. His expression told me he’d picked up on my thoughts, again, responded to them, again, and my knees were weak, again. He leaned in and kissed me softly, his lips were cool but his mouth was so hot I gasped into his. If he hadn’t held my hands so hard I’d have pulled them out of their cover cold be damned, I wanted to clap onto his hair, to get him closer. I stretched up and welcomed him, his tongue gentle but getting more demanding. He closed the gap and freed my arms as he cupped my cheeks, his thumb rubbing blood back into them, the damn hat stuck between us when it fell off as I carded his hair clumsily his hair clumsily with the stupid gloves, ****and I forgot the world existed until we broke apart. We stared wordlessly at each other, I saw his face mirroring mine, and I was just about to insist on cutting the excursion short when I saw him look past me and his jaw set.

“Fuck.” He pocketed the cap, turned around, grabbed my hand and dragged me along, I followed meekly, still dazed. He set off in the direction we’d been heading but turned at the next intersection and beelined towards a path into a big park before he slowed to a normal pace. My brain clicked, and I realised why.

“Pictures?”

“Yeah.” He lead the way towards a huge fountain in the middle, still running despite the cold. “I’m sorry.”

I shrugged, not wanting to show my upset. _Fuck. Dammit. Shit_. “‘Tis okay.”

“No, it’s not. That’s probably going online.” He slowed further, settling into our previous comfortable pace. “I’m so sorry.” He sounded more sad than anything, and I felt a flash of déjà vu from the day at Alex’ apartment where he’d shared his tale of woe. _He’d_ come without this shit. _Jesus, shut up_.

“Hey.” I stopped and forced him towards me. He didn’t meet my eyes. “Hey.” I tugged his hand. He glanced at me. “Not your fault.” He smiled, the wistfulness real this time.

“Thanks. But you know that’s not true.”

“No. Seb. Come on.”

“Don’t Seb me.”

I snorted, and his smile grew a bit more genuine. “Seb.” A cog slid into place. “Did you just quote Cap to me?”

He chuckled. “Well, you left it lying there.”

I shook my head. “Yeah, I guess I did.” I moved in and shrugged under his shoulder and he obeyed instantly, and we continued towards the fountain. “But it’s still not your fault.”

“It still is, but I’ll leave it.” He kissed my hair. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” I copped a feel of his ass, regrettably under several layers of clothing, and felt him rumble again. “Maybe they just wanted it for their personal collection.”

He grimaced. “Yeah. Maybe.” He didn’t sound like he believed it for a second, and I had to swallow the flash of fear that surged through me.

“If not, we’ll deal.” I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “And besides, something good came out of it.”

He sent me an incredulous look. “What?”

I nodded to his pocket. “The cap.”

He snorted and shook his head, but still. He was smiling. “Yeah, I guess you were right.”

“I usually am.”

He sighed and pulled me closer, and we dropped the subject in silent agreement. “Also you’d already knocked it off me.”

“Oh, fuck off. You know I’m right.”

“Yes.” He slung his arm over my shoulders and I didn’t think about the picture anymore. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

“Yep.” I was as unwilling as him to let anything mar the day.

It turned out to be easy. We bought hot cocoa at a small trailer with a few tables at the centre of the park and sat talking for half an hour as the dusk became dark, and we were freezing our collective asses off and had to move. We walked back by a slightly different route, taking a wide circle around the park cloaked by the even colder night air, but I didn’t mind. I was both dreading the end and anticipating what it meant, and I suspected he felt the same.

Oh, I wanted it, I wanted it so bad I felt close to imploding, but there was that faint fear; what if it doesn’t live up to the expectations? We’d only had sex once, and that was under extremely unusual circumstances, at least for me, and by all accounts for him too. I felt fairly confident and, judging by that little stunt on my couch, I didn’t doubt his abilities, but god I wanted him in me, to feel him on me, I wanted to fuck him, but I wanted to enjoy him too. Like this, just getting to know him better, no matter how familiar he felt, we’d only spent five days together. _Pretty incredible days though. Yes, but still._ What if?

I wasn’t able to tell where we were going, I didn’t know the area at all, I’d hardly been there before. I knew the park was Washington Park, but that was from maps. He knew it well though, I still didn’t know anything apart from East Village. When we got close to Greenwich we found an informal French bar restaurant combo and ate dinner, had a drink without overdoing it—performance was still an issue, and no one wanted a reprise of the previous Friday.

After an extremely pleasant, and warm, hour, we left and continued in the opposite direction. He pointed out some landmarks as we went, otherwise the conversation fluctuated between superficial and safe personal subjects, as it had during the meal. He asked me more about Norway, I asked a bit about his time in Romania and Vienna. He thought it was funny when I tried to pretend I didn’t know much, and I could quite leave the Marvel thing alone. But even the short lulls were easy, not surprising since they always had been.

I’d completely lost my bearings until he stopped, and I realised we’d come full circle: we were back at Astor Place. He just waited until I registered that we were right outside a Starbucks, presumably the one he’d stopped at earlier, and I grinned and went inside with him in tow. The evening had been so relaxing that I felt confident enough to again take some charge—I was in favour of equality, it was just unfortunate that he had that damn ability to render me both speech- and will-less. He seemed immensely pleased by it, clearly communicating he wanted confirmation too. We ordered and sat down in the near empty room, choosing a table away from windows, why risk anything. Neither of us had had the courage to check social media, what was the point? We were either there or not, if there was damage it was already done.

I ordered a simple latte, it seemed appropriate somehow, why not celebrate with some repetition. Hell, I was pretty much wearing the same thing, even if he wasn’t. Somehow I felt sure he’d thought about it though, but it was too cold. _Damn_. At least the camo jacked would have reduced the number of layers between us. He smirked as he watched me, and I remembered his uncanny ability to see right through me. Well, why not? Besides, if he knew what I was thinking he was thinking it too.

“So... Are you planning on staying up tonight?” I nodded toward his drink.

“Well, yeah. I have a project I want to finish.” The accompanying lip action and leg between mine sent my heart into overdrive, I was sure he could hear it across the table, judging from his expression he could at least surmise what was happening. I squirmed visibly and trapped his leg.

“You do, do you?” I tried for a glare, but with the way I was reacting I harboured no illusions about the efficiency of it.

“Yeah.” We stared at each other for a beat then simultaneously reached for our coats, got dressed and left our half-full drinks behind, him half a step in front of me as he staked out the course. He eased up when we’d crossed the intersection but the speed had near doubled, and when he finally stopped outside a classic brick building restored to a former glory we were both out of breath, small clouds of frosted air mingling as we turned away from the facade and took a moment.

“This is me.” He swallowed. “So… You want to come in for a coffee or something?” The ridiculous shyness was back, but this time he at least had the decency to shuffle his feet and circle his toe to let me know he didn’t really doubt his chances _that_ much.

“I’m all coffeed out. Sorry.” I could have sworn the flash across his face was real but it disappeared as soon as I followed up. “But I’ll take something.”

The track through the building was a blur—I barely registered his nod to the doorman, the brand new grated elevator, and we were outside a shiny black door, set in red brick with a peephole and a heavy lock. I barely registered it before I found myself pressed against it, sliding a little on the smooth surface. He did in no way keep any distance, I could feel him hard through the gap in his coat and he covered my mouth in a way that was anything but chaste. I lost any sense of time as I felt my pussy pulsing and my panties soak, my hands were bare, the gloves shed in my hurry to find some part, any part of him to hold on to. He pulled back, keeping me secured against him by a strong grip on my ass, my coat draped over his arm during the frenzy, his hips rotating gently as he dragged his nose along my jaw and buried his face in my scarf, his open mouth on my neck. My lungs were heaving, my fingers still clawing his shoulders and neck, egging him on.

“Fuck.” He came up for air, his breath washing over me, the heat shooting down my spine making me writhe against him. “Are you sure about this?” His voice was thick and ragged, barely audible.

I’d waivered a lot, and chances were that it might happen again. But right then, right there, in that moment, I had no doubt, no trepidation. There wasn't room in my head for anything but him, and I’d never been so sure about anything in my life. I pulled to the side until I reached his ear. “Three.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. As I feared, life kicked me around a little. Nothing serious, but the writing came to a screeching halt. And I'll admit I struggled a bit here, I needed several things to happen, and I hope I succeeded with that. As usual any and all feedback is greatly appreciated. 
> 
> I hope that I can stick to a semi-regular schedule, with updates every 1-2 weeks. Hope you continue to tag along with these guys, they're a hoot to write. Thank you for your patience, and I'll do my best to keep it up :)


	12. Can you tattoo a memory? Inquiring minds and all that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so things didn't go as planned. Obviously. Between some rl crap and a complete loss of self-confidence I just stopped for, oh idk, 4 months. And then when I tried to pick it up it was just so hard, I hit some unexpected obstacles, first endgame did me a dirty and turned me off the whole of Marvel, and Sebastian, albeit very unfairly, by association, and secondly it became really apparent I'd written myself into a pretty impossible corner, after all this build up- well it's got to be pretty fucking epic, innit. 
> 
> But after tying down some victims and forcing them to test it I've been reassured it should hit the mark. Although that may be a ploy to escape... :O
> 
> Anyways, I really hope you enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks.

__

_Alex and Seb at the Get Out premiere Feb. 24 2017. Photo:[LK](http://mischief-in-mirkwood.tumblr.com/)_

“Three.” 

He shifted enough to shove his hand down his pant pocket, extracted a key and managed to force it into the lock with a short glance before he wrenched it around and almost tore the handle off. With a growl he embraced me fully, and we stumbled through the door as he found my mouth, his tongue hard and demanding almost overpowering my own. I held onto his neck and hair for dear life as he steered us blindly inside, kicking the door shut behind us. I didn’t even have time to glance around to take toll of my surroundings. I honestly didn’t care at all, all I could concentrate on was him, his strong hands, his whole body connecting with mine, his rigid erection against my mound, his legs rubbing between and outside mine as he walked me backwards until I felt an edge pressed against my ass. 

We broke apart enough for me to catch his almost deranged expression, and I expected mine was much the same. I pulled him back onto me, not wanting to feel any space. I wanted him closer, I wanted him to engulf me, I wanted him _in_ me. We moaned in unison as he clamped his hands around my waist and lifted me onto whatever I was backed against. Forcing my legs apart, he grabbed my ass and yanked me towards him, grinding into my clit so hard I thought I would combust. I tore away, gasping for air to let out a deep groan, I wanted to speak but I couldn’t, it was too much—the wait had been so long, and I couldn’t even fathom that we were finally here. I started tugging feebly at his coat, my hands seemed to have lost all power, I was getting numb before we’d even started. 

He released me long enough to tear his coat off, and I slackened my arms to let him do the same with mine before he covered my mouth again. My lungs were working themselves into a frenzy, but who could really be bothered with something so mundane as air, the little I got from my squished nose had to suffice. I was so lost I didn't even notice he'd stopped moving until he pulled back, and his muffled words reached me through a haze. 

“Do you need to answer that?” It was accompanied by a throaty laugh, and I heard distant ringing and my coat started vibrating beside me.

“Oh, fuck off.” I didn't even consider to feign interest and with another low laugh he returned to the task at hand as the ringing faded. 

Within seconds we were back, and if a ping announced a message it didn’t register. His hands were under my shirt, and I vaguely felt something rip before he unhooked my bra and kneaded my breasts almost painfully. It was the best I’d felt in weeks. My nipples were already oversensitive and stiff, and his flicking and gentle twisting sent burning torrents straight down through my core, causing a new pool of arousal to spread out and provide lubrication for his still frantic grinding, and I nearly came.

“Oh goooood.” I inhaled and fell on his shoulder, fisting his shirt instinctively to keep steady, not caring one jot about anything as long as he kept touching me.

With a groan he hooked the fly of my jeans and slid his hand inside, hissing as he hit the slickness. My head fell back and I arched against him, trapping him as he twisted, going straight for my entrance, rubbing his palm over my clit.

“Fuck. How can you be so fucking wet, you're so wet.” Two fingers entered me, bottoming out, and I exhaled with relief, I wanted to scream but I didn’t have air to spare. “Fuck, you feel so good.” His words were muffled in the crook of my neck, his lips wet, his tongue moving as he spoke. “So fucking good.” He started moving, sliding up and down, in and out, alternating between circling and rubbing my clit and fucking me slowly, and I whined and squirmed vigorously as he slowly, agonisingly slowly, brought me closer and closer to climax. “I can’t wait to fuck you.” 

The words alone were nearly enough to finish me, so the increase in speed pushed me over the edge and with a silent scream I came. He kept fucking me, bringing me down as I clenched around his fingers, ground against his palm, my lower body turning to jello as I sank onto him, the waves of pleasure surging through me, leaving me a quivering mess. 

“Fuuuck.” I didn’t even notice that he’d removed his hand until he lifted his thumb to my mouth, inviting me to taste, and I closed lips around it, sucking my own arousal until he withdrew and kissed me, licking my lips, sucking my tongue in turn, thrusting his cock into my oversensitive pussy, making me flinch but still long for more. I broke away with a sharp inhale. “Seb…” My chest was constricted and the word a mere breath.

He laughed raggedly. “Sorry.” He relented and eased away, leaning his forehead on mine. “You want to stop?” He was stroking my back, his slick-covered hand leaving a cold trail on one side.

“What do you think?” I scooted forward, rubbing his dick, ignoring the subtle twinge, and he groaned again, fastened his grip on me and sucked and nibbled my lip. 

“We need to move, I don’t have any protection here.” The words came in intervals between wet kisses and moans, rendering me immobile while he kept it up. The meaning didn't sink in until he met my eyes, and I managed a weak assent. 

Suddenly I was slung around his waist, my thighs tight and my ankles crossed as he carried me down a hallway and entered a spacious bedroom with a gigantic bed and thick carpet, hitting a switch with his elbow, bathing the room in an understated glow. I laughed a bit hysterically from the shock as he set me down and walked me to the edge of the bed and started tugging at my clothing, resuming the kissing as I cued in and began easing the process. He graciously shed his sweater and tee in one swift wrench, throwing the bundle unceremoniously on the floor before he pulled my shirt over my head. My already loosened bra fell off, and we both stood a few seconds, taking each other in before he kissed me firmly and gave me a gentle push. He wasn't laughing anymore, his eyes were darkened with lust in the soft light and a shiver of anticipation ran through my whole frame as I watched him loom over me. He bent down and pulled off my boots and socks—how rude that I'd not taken them off as I'd come in—and began working my jeans down my legs. I lifted and shrugged automatically, all the while watching him, his muscles playing under his warm skin, my breathing picking up speed as I felt air on my overheated drenched centre. With a last yank I was naked apart from the pathetic piece of fabric he left. I knew why, and I was grateful he didn't leave me completely exposed while he was still clothed. But at that point I wanted to bare myself, tempt him, get him going faster—I knew what was coming, and it couldn't come fast enough. But I suspected he, like me, wanted to savour it, and, frustrating as it was, he was right, the wait had been too long, the build-up too strong, for the moment to be rushed and cast aside, but did he have to look so damn good and increase the torture?

“Jesus.” The whisper enforced the exclamation, and I blushed under his admiring stare. I remembered the last time he'd looked at me like that, but with the ramped up intensity I felt a renewed surge of hot wetness swell from my centre. “You are so beautiful.” 

_Damn_. My response was cut short as he sank down, lifted my leg and dragged his face up the inside of it while inhaling deeply. I clutched the bedding and elevated my hips, but the damn bastard stopped an inch away from where I wanted him, grinning widely before he kissed me gently and stood back up. He watched me as he kicked off his own boots and slowly opened his fly, revealing his Calvins tight and nearly transparent over his cock. I stared shamelessly, my legs spreading an inch by their own volition and judging by the low chortle he registered my tongue flickering. _Fuck. Was he always so big_? _Will he even fit?_ _Oh god yes_. He pushed both jeans and boxers down, stepped out of them, never averting his eyes, gauging my reaction every step of the way.

Air stuck in my throat, my hips jutted involuntarily—he looked magnificent, his toned abs and pecs, I'd not done them justice in my dreams, his slim hips, powerful thighs, defined arms and his cock, his perfect cock, head glistening with precum. I whimpered, and he smiled lazily, he knew exactly the effect he had, he saw me become undone before he even touched me. I watched him walk over to the nightstand, return with a box of condoms and toss them lightly on the bed. I shot them a glance and raised a brow at his confidence, but the snappy comment I had brewing got caught in my chest as he firmly grabbed himself and began pumping slowly and expertly. He towered over me, confident and demanding, and I suddenly had no doubts he could go through the whole fucking box, still leaving me aching for more. _Shit, fuck and shit_. I swallowed hard and wondered how much he would cave if I actually started begging. I swallowed again, no wonder my mouth was dry, every ounce of moisture in my body was redirected elsewhere. He grinned, the sight of my squirming adoring form was clearly appreciated. 

“Sebastian…” The pleading tone didn't escape any of us, and his expression softened, rendering me even more helpless.

“Damn, you're beautiful.” He seemed unreal as he lowered himself down and hovered over me, his weight sinking me further into the mattress, and I was drowning. 

I was drowning in his warmth and scent, unable to speak or breathe, my heart working me into an early death. I was only vaguely aware of his leg nudging my knees apart, his dick dabbing wet spots on my thigh—and had his eyes always been black? 

“So beautiful.” He kissed my cheek, my jaw, my neck, his chest brushing my nipples and sending currents down my core. His hair fell down, shading his face, his stunning face, _for shame,_ making me reach up and card it away, and he stopped and looked at me through heavy lids. I sighed as I brought him to me and brushed his lips. We were suspended, just waiting for the spell to break. The quiet gentleness was reaffirming, it grounded me, solidified the presence of him, of us, reminding me that this had evolved far beyond where we had started, I needed it in a profound way, I needed-I needed-I ne—

He parted his lips, met mine and I lost myself—his tongue filled my mouth, his moans filled my ears, his body getting heavier as he relaxed, my legs falling out and inviting him in, his cock sliding up my thigh. I whimpered and squirmed, clawing his lower back, willing him closer.

We broke apart, our bodies shaking in silent laughter, and I ground against him one last time. He started to pull back, groaning when he rolled his hips and thrust into my groin, grinning in response to my scraping nails as I released him and he shoved off me.

“You like watching me squirm, don’t you?” His voice didn’t match his smile, it was thick and breathless, and I scrambled to get up on my elbows to get a better look at him where he sat back on his knees, dick twitching and glistening. 

I bit my lip, meeting his gaze, enjoying the warmth of the knowledge that he returned my sentiments. “Uh-hu.” My hips flexed, challenging my already minuscule self-control. “Yeah.” I swallowed hard. “Sure. Your squirms.”

His laugh was almost inaudible, transforming to a hiss when he reached and hooked his fingers under my panties, my eyes rolling back as he stroked his knuckles over my clit. “Shit,” he muttered as he impatiently began tugging, my back and legs acting independently to ease the process until he could toss them carelessly over his shoulder, finally leaving me exposed. 

The cool air hit, a shiver shot through me and I gasped. “Fuuuck.”

He grinned widely as he reached for the condoms, shook one out and bit off the foil. His gaze didn’t waver as he sank forward, his hand gripping the sheet by my head while he rolled it on. His arm trembled under the strain when I met him with a deep kiss, locking my hands around his neck and shoulders—my mouth was deliciously swollen and sensitive from the chafing of his beard, I knew it would show but damn it was worth it. He groaned and hitched his free hand under my knee, elevating me, spreading me, sliding up and down my slit before he stopped at my entrance. 

I rocked my hips and as the tip of him dipped in, my back arched and I fell back while my legs moved up and my ankles locked at the small of his back, my heels digging into his ass. I caught a glimpse of the white in his eyes when they squeezed shut before he fell down on my shoulder, a breathy moan against my neck as he slowly slid in, and my mind shut down. I could feel nothing apart from him inside me, every point of contact scorching, small shocks of pleasure shimmering from every nerve. I didn’t want him to move, ever, even if I knew it would only make it better, it didn’t matter, I wanted _this_ to last, this feeling, this contentment. I let out a long trembling sigh, the small jolts causing me to contract slightly, and he jerked in response, effectively breaking the spell, shoving away any romanticism I’d ever felt towards him and replacing it with pure undiluted lust. My heels tightened their hold, my muscles aching from the strain, forcing him deeper. He reached around me, found the small of my back, fingers fanned out as he pulled me even closer, almost splitting me in half when he burrowed and ground against my clit, growling wetly into my neck all teeth and tongue, the sound joining my own grunts and whimpers as I pressed my open mouth into his shoulder, forgetting how to breathe until he relaxed his hold and began moving jaggedly. 

I eased my grip, allowing him to pull out halfway, not willing to let him too far, his hips twisting with every stroke, his pelvis rubbing and sliding against me, his cock filling me, hitting spots I’d forgotten I had and a few I wasn’t even aware of. I found his jaw and pushed him up, met his eyes enough to see my pleasure reflected in them and pulled him in, moaning into his mouth, the kiss a hot mess of lips and teeth, the heat of his breath surrounding me, his scent and taste filling my head as he fucked me slowly, almost lazily, neither of us wanting it to end, dragging this part, the build, the wait, the anticipation, out as long as possible. I was drowning in the sweetness of it, completely lost to the world, my head empty apart from the knowledge of _him_ , and I didn't even notice he'd stopped kissing me.

"You know, I think we should take a break."

I blinked and found him watching me, the bemused expression accompanying the teasing tone in sharp contrast to the thickness of his voice and his heavy breathing.

"What?" It took a few seconds before I deciphered the meaning of the words. He laughed, and the tremor reverberating through his cock straight to my centre made me gasp and bite my lip when I saw his smile. _Fuck me, that's a pretty smile_.

"I said, I think we should stop.” His grin widened in response to what I could only imagine must have been a horrified expression.

“What??" _No, no, no. Is he fucking serious?_ I clenched around him and was rewarded with a sharp hiss. Nothing made sense.

He was still grinning, but it was a bit more strained, and I must have looked thoroughly annoyed because he looked happier than ever.

“I just don’t want it to be over.” He kissed me between each word, reassuring and soft, and I decided I’d smack him later when his dick was elsewhere, and I still wasn’t getting my mind around his stupid notions. “I’ve waited for so long, I want to make it last.” He thrust harder and ground into me for emphasis, and I forgot how to smile. I managed a weak nod before my mouth fell open and my neck fell back. He groaned. "Fuck, you're so beautiful when I'm—" He shivered as I spread out even further, grabbed his ass and forced him deeper. "Oh god." He fell back down on my shoulder, panting.

"Seb?" I barely managed to speak, but it needed saying.

"Mmhmm." 

"I'm gonna need you to fuck me." I dug in my nails lightly into his shoulders, enjoying the resistance of the tense muscles, he had a point, I did love making him squirm. He lifted his head with an almost pained expression, frozen in me as I met his gaze.

I barely registered a breathless "Fuck." before he covered my mouth, buried his hand in my hair and hitched my knee over his elbow, pausing for air and stared at me for an endless moment before he slammed into me and began moving. 

I tried to keep my eyes open, his were the most beautiful thing I could remember seeing. They pierced me, rendering me completely overwhelmed as he kept pounding me, my free leg settling on his ass, my heel dug in with what must be painful force. I wanted to open myself to him, to bare myself, the need for him flooding through me as he chased us both closer to a semblance of release, not leaving me time to think before I felt the familiar swell completely shutting me off. 

I was stuck in a place of perpetual pleasure, where nothing existed but him and me and his cock pounding me as his name echoed through my head, his hot and wet and near feral grunts in my ear, his hand clamping my ass, securing me to him as I arched back and was that noise even human? 

“That’s it, fffuckkk, that’s it, that’s—” His urgency and desperation added another dimension to the almost burning heat that spread through my body and limbs as he fucked me through my orgasm, before he finally jerked and thrust hard and raggedly and fell on top of me, not easing his hold as he emptied himself, throbbing in tune with me.

I just lay there, my mind blank, my world still limited to him, my whole frame going slack as the waves petered out and left only a sense of pure contentment behind. I didn’t move until his weight was constricting enough that air was becoming a serious issue, my incessant panting had probably left my ribs bruised on its own. Not that I didn’t enjoy it, the knowledge that he was at least as spent as I was almost as big a pleasure as the goddamn orgasm itself. Almost.

“Seb?” The only parts of him moving were the lazy twitches of his dick and his racing heartbeat. I couldn’t even feel him breathe. I tried to lift my arm, but that too was solidly pinned underneath him, when had his arms even moved, no wonder I couldn't breathe, his embrace was crushing me, his hands grabbing my sides for bare life. “Seb?” I managed a weak little flail, enough that I could prod his side, and he flapped once before sagging back. I tried again, not that I’d mind if this was to be my end—I couldn’t think of a better way to go—but it’d be too bad if his career was cut short because of me, I could see the headlines now. “Seb?” Nothing. I stroked him, my hand sliding across the sweat, the beautiful, delicious sweat coating his smooth back and ribs, would it be untoward to lick— _OH MY FUCKING GOD YOU'VE JUST FUCKED HIM, WOMAN, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?_ Yeesh. Testy. You’d think a stellar orgasm like that would shut me up for longer. “Sebastian, I’m gonna need you to move.” I choked the words out, and I finally got a response—of him burrowing into my neck and crushing me even closer. Jesus, maybe this was the end.

“What?” I gasped when he released me enough to breathe, but not enough for any real advancement, and he sounded so annoyed I was overwhelmed by a new surge of joy. 

“No, nothing. It’s fine.”

“Fine?” He flexed his fingers, and I squirmed enough that I felt him slide out an inch, causing us both to hiss. _“_ _Fine_ _?”_

“Eh. You know. Fine.” The shrug was somewhat stifled, but my giggle and his snort was not, and he groaned and shifted himself enough to look at me. 

“Just fine? You’re crushing my self-esteem here.”

“Awww.” I inched my mouth closer to speak into his. “Above average.” He hoisted himself up, not widening the gap. 

“Well, okay. As long as it’s above.” He shut me up with a kiss, and I fucking clenched, expelling him further. He chuckled, dabbing his tongue to mine. _Goddamnit_. Oh well, I’d had the upper hand for a minute. He had sort of made it more than clear that he wasn’t _completely_ untouched by my presence. “I’m gonna shoot a bit higher though.” He kissed me again. “You’re fucking incredible.” He stroked my damp hair away, his hand lingering at my temple. "Much better than I remembered."

 _Oh gods_. I swallowed, averting my eyes, completely speechless. It was the reverent tone more than the words, the warmth bringing me close to tears, and I felt almost afraid—of myself more than him. Of course he’d say that, we’d just had sex, he was still _in_ me for fuck’s sake, it didn’t _mean_ anything. I didn’t dare respond with words, I just kissed him back, trying to shut my brain down again. We were doing so well, we usually were when one of us took a break. 

The man was a class act however and ruined the moment splendidly by twisting, his pelvis grinding into my oversensitive clit and he slid out, causing us both to burst out laughing. Well, shit. I really enjoyed having him there, even soft and yielding, but if nothing it proved not even I was ready for round two. Yet. 

“I’m gonna have to move.” He smiled brilliantly, his eyes sparkling in the dim light, soft and lighter now that the lust wasn’t as prevalent. My answering groan and reluctance secured me a kiss and a chuckle before he began pulling back. “No, no, don’t get up.” My weak attempts to protest were pitiful enough to warrant the laugh, so I didn’t even mind it, truth be told my joints weren’t really connected to anything. I had to admire that he could even manage the heavy, half-hearted flop that landed him beside me, leaving me exposed to the elements, and I shivered from both the lack of his heat and his weight, strange how fast it had become so _right_ , like he belonged there. On top of me. Warming me. Grounding me. Keeping me. _Fuck_. I watched him shed the condom, tie it up and drop it by the bed before he started tugging the sheet over us, and shrugged back, extending his arm and inviting me in.

I scooted over as best as I could, still wobbly, punched him lightly for the smile that played, telling me he noticed, and snuggled in, moulding my body to his, leaning my head on his shoulder, just enjoying his fingers gently tousling my hair while his other hand pulled lightly at mine. 

"Seb, I—" I listened to his heart and slow breathing until my eyes started to droop, and I jerked back only to have him pull me closer and lay his lips at my temple, shushing me.

“Just sleep.” He squeezed my hand and kissed me, exciting me more than calming me, but again I found myself unwilling to move, not wanting to. At all. Ever. Funny how that kept happening when he was around. I burrowed my face into his chest and after a while, his soft skin under my cheek, his scent in my nose and the gentle movement of his breathing calmed me enough that I drifted off with the steady thump of his heart in my ear.

I woke peacefully and gradually, enjoying that stage between dream and reality where flashes of both mix, but for once I callously disregarded the confusing dream bits—the reality was too good, nothing that good could be a dream, my mind wasn’t capable of producing anything close to it. I didn’t stir right away, I lay still, just orienting myself. I wasn’t really sure what to expect, I honestly couldn’t remember what this room looked like. Was there even a window? I couldn’t feel any sun, but it seemed like daytime. I peered out through one lid, confused when all I could see was a wide expanse of empty bed and a door bathed in a soft pleasant light coming from behind me. I shifted and tried to sense him behind me, but came up empty. Well, fuck. I sighed and turned and my suspicions were confirmed, the day streamed through thick shades, but the curtains were drawn, something I had a vague sense they hadn’t been before. 

“Seb?” My voice was a croak and the motion made me want to both shower and brush my teeth, and I was struck in horror at the thought of him getting up because he didn’t want to stay in bed with me. “Seb?” I could hear the faint sound of music, but that could come from anywhere, even outside. _Shit_ _._ _Fuck_ _._ _Fine_ . I sat up and began wriggling to the edge of the bed, it could easily fit 4 people, maybe he was a restless sleeper— _no, he’s not you dimwit_. A giggle burst out just from the fact that I knew that, and other alternative explanations began forming until I got a grip and got out of bed and took stock of myself and my surroundings.

The whole room was in subdued, pleasant tones, different warm shades of white mostly, apart from the curtains that were a heavy dark grey, probably to just make them even more effective. The thick, heavy cotton of the bedsheets were light blue, close enough that I envisioned his eyes. Did he intend for them to match? The thought made me grin. The walls were mostly bare apart from one colourful painting over an oversized dresser that matched the rest of the furniture. The room came off as tasteful, understated and clearly the work of an interior designer. Hmmm. For some reason that was almost disappointing, until I noticed all the more personal aspects of the room. There was the painting that seemed to be the only thing of colour, an abstract piece at first glance but at closer examination was a landscape in thick slabs of oil, rich and old. The surfaces were cluttered, a small stack of books on one nightstand, a few magazines and a small speaker dock on the other. There were charger cables by the bed and by the heavy comfortable chair by the window, clothes carelessly thrown over the stool in front of it, a laptop resting precariously on the small table beside it. On the dresser two watches were ironically set in front of a digital clock that looked like it was straight out of the 90s. I could make out a picture of Earth taken from the International Space Station on the cover of the top magazine, and it made my knees buckle slightly as I realised where I was and why I was there. _JESUS FUCKING CHRIST_ _,_ _I’M IN SEBASTIAN FUCKING STAN’S BEDROOM_ _._

The thought was jarring enough that I became aware that I was not only in Sebastian fucking Stan’s bedroom, but that I was also buck naked and somewhat cold, my toes buried in the shag carpet to steady me as I walked over to the bathroom. I leaned on the door for a moment to catch my mental breath, reality was sure slow to sink in, but oh boy when she did. _Damn_. The bathroom was the same as the bedroom, but the clawfoot tub gave me a pang I didn’t care to examine, so I postponed my snooping and stepped into the positively huge shower which refocused my brain nicely, imagining the possibilities. 

With all possibilities, from every possible angle, imagined to the smallest detail and the need to dwell on them exorcised for the time being, I stepped out and dried off with a big towel, the weight of which was probably more than my bedspread, but at least it doubled as a toga for my future adventures. I curbed my more curious tendencies, for some reason it felt more intrusive for me to shuffle through his stuff than him doing the same at my place. It was irrational, sure, but still. Besides, it made me feel positively saintlike, which is never a bad thing. As I squeezed out some toothpaste on my finger, intending to settle until I could get my hands on my bag, I saw a wrapped toothbrush on top of a towel on the counter, clearly set out for me. _Or maybe he keeps it at the ready at all times, just in case_ _._ Ah. There she was. I slapped her shut and moaned heartily as I brushed my teeth, it was nearly as good as the shower. I took my time, staring at myself in the mirror and took a few extra moments to contemplate and do inventory. 

I didn't look too bad—apart from reddish tinge along my clavicle and neck and some slight swelling around the lip area I didn't really bear any physical witness to the night's escapades. But the shine in my eyes spoke volumes about the magnitude of the development. Suddenly my chest constricted with a pang of the same fear I'd felt after. After. After we had sex. Because he'd moved away. _Oh my fucking god, what are you doing? What the fuck are you doing?_ I noticed my hand had started to tremble and I leaned on the counter, forcing the panic to subside, I was from a furnished home after all, and we did all our panicking in our own bathrooms. I rinsed and set the toothbrush aside and spent a few minutes combing through my hair while my pulse returned to something resembling normal and after a few internal cheers I declared myself ready to face the world. _And him? Are you ready to face him?_ _Oh shut it, don't be such a bitch_ _._

The quiet wasn’t really oppressing, but a bit unnerving, mostly because being there without him made the previous night feel more unreal with each passing second. When I discovered my own clothes neatly folded on a chair by the door I briefly considered getting dressed and skedaddle before I managed to curb the flight instinct, he deserved some modicum of trust at this juncture. My clothes were very neatly folded though, maybe he’d worked as a maid before he made it. _Huh_. The thought made me giggle as I went back out and made my way out into the hall. 

“Seb?” I padded through the hall, following the faint hum of the radio and rounded the corner. “Seb?" No response. _Huh_ . The kitchen was clearly by the same designer that had done the bedroom and bathroom: fairly new, with every comfort known to man—and a note in front of a metal flask and a mug beside the fridge. _Thank fucking god_. The silence had become louder than I’d wanted to admit, who really wants to greet such a day with a full blown panic attack? 

_Live._

_I didn’t want to wake you, but I kinda realised your bag was missing, and I’ve called around looking for it but Starbucks was a bust and the restaurant isn’t open yet, so I figure I’ll go over there and knock. I’ve left a toothbrush for you, and the coffee is fresh as of 9:32. Feel free to make a new batch if it’s gone stale. There should be something in the fridge if you’re hungry, but I’m thinking I’ll pick something up on my way back._

_Love, Seb_

_PS: you look adorable when you’re sleeping and has anyone ever told you that you talk when you dream? xxx_

Well. At least he wasn’t there to hear the inhuman sound that escaped me, but I figured my face would still be burnt off when he returned. _Jesus absolutely fucking christ_ _._ I fumbled in the cabinet for a glass and filled it with ice water, considering whether to drink it or drench myself, but settled on the former, although the thought of someone slipping on a wet floor as they came home wasn’t unamusing. _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_.

I tried to shuffle through my dreams but coming up empty, they’re dissipated within the bliss that was the images of last night. _Of course he might just be an asshole and tease you_ . Hoping against hope, I clung to the possibility, and also, it’s not like it’d be below him. I drained another glass before establishing that he must’ve left just as I woke up, the coffee wouldn’t be totally fresh, but still be perfectly drinkable, and more importantly, it’d been more than half an hour, he’d be on his way back soon. The thought made my heart, _ugh_ , flutter, but it was better than the goddamn blush. _OH FUCK, MY BAG! ARE YOU KIDDING ME, MY GODDAMN LAPTOP!_

It was rather telling of the effect he had on me, that it took this long for me to remember that the last two years of my life was at the moment, for all intents and purposes, lost. _MY FUCKING THESIS NONONONO_ . The potentially revealing sleeptalking seemed pretty inconsequential suddenly, and despite the mounting panic attack I wanted to pat my back, it was a relief to know I still had some semblance of self in spite of the immense adversity it was currently facing. Shit ! After a few moments of indecision I remembered that I at least had my phone, and I would be able to retrieve most of the work from the cloud until I could afford a new laptop. _Okay, breathe. Just breathe_ . I shook some action into my head and jogged back to the hall, clutching the towel, I didn't want him to return and find me naked when he opened the door. _Really? You don't. Oh for gods sake._

I floundered a little before I found my coat, it wasn't the messy bundle I must have left behind, of course it was straightened and hung, again neatly, behind a sliding door closed like a good coat should. I found my phone, pulled up our thread, my hands damp and shaking slightly, and typed.

_Hi. Thank you, have you found it?_

I didn't really have the patience for politeness, besides we must be past that now, right? Within a minute the ping came, damn I loved this man. _No, not lov—oh shut it, not the fucking time._ I turned my dazed attention to the present crisis.

 _Good morning to you too—_ a goddamn stupid winking tongue emoji of course— _No, but I'm at the restaurant, and the guy finally showed up. He wasn't working last night, but he's checking for it now. I'm sure it's here, where else can it be?_

His confidence was reassuring, he was righ—

_Hey. While I wait, what are you wearing?_

The git had added a bloody halo, and I felt the blush extend to my whole body. Had I dared look down I was positive my chest was in flames.

_Hey. C'mon, don't be mad, indulge me, I haven't seen you in ages._

Fucking bastard. I began typing, but of course he was faster.

_Are you naked?_

In a moment of blind terror I glanced around me for cameras, surely he didn't hav—

_Got it!_

_Hang on._

I almost dropped my phone, relief washed over me, pushing away the annoyance in a flash. _Thank fucking god. Thank youthankyoutha—_ The phone rang, requesting Facetime. _Oooh shit_. I rolled my neck and accepted with a sigh, making sure to tilt slightly up, no need to give him the satisfaction of knowing how spot on he was.

"Hi." His voice was warm and teasing, and he looked better than anyone had a right to, his cheeks and nose reddened from the cold. He was walking and panting slightly, his breath sending out small puffs of smoke—how much colder had it gotten during the night?

"Hi." Damn, that was way too breathless, my stationary self was worse than him. At least my grin wasn’t too sheepish. I hoped.

"So, did I distract you?"

"What?"

"Just now." He tipped the screen and extended his neck, making it appear he was looking down at my body, eyes bright, smile brilliant.

"Oh, fuck you." My glare was pathetic, but then again I'd not expected anything else. Besides, the thought of him thinking about how stressed I was, well... I’m a simple woman at the best of times, and he made me straight up easy. 

His grin widened. "You sleep well?" The tone was so suggestive I burst out laughing, and he joined me, the sound elevating my already giddy state. I moved over to the dresser, leaned on it, the edge against my ass making me squirm slightly. _Shit_. I cleared my throat.

"Thanks for the toothbrush." My face rearranged itself to a more sombre state, and I was unsure if I wanted him to catch on to the tenderness I wanted to convey. I was still reeling a little from his tone last night. "And the coffee." If he caught on he let me off the hook, and the same ambivalence struck me—how easy it would be to just let down my guard and let him see me, but was I ready to risk it? Really risk it, no matter what emotional danger it put me in? 

"You're very welcome." He was still playful, but I thought I saw a softer glow in his eyes. “You’ve made yourself at home, I hope?” 

Home. Home? _Oh my god, shut the fuck up_.

“Yeah. Thanks.” I cleared my throat. “Was he annoyed?”

“Who?”

“The guy? That you came before they opened?”

“Oh. No. He was cool.” He moved the camera down to his side where the bag hung, looking exactly as when I’d seen it last. He returned. “I didn’t go through it thoroughly, but your computer and wallet are in here. So I figure so is the rest.”

“Oh good. Awesome. Thank you. I feel so bad I should’ve rem—” With a look he gave me a stark reminder of why I’d forgotten and the words stuck in my chest, the accompanying smug smirk made my knees buckle as my thighs started sliding together, and I hoped he didn’t notice the sudden jerk. 

“Actually I’m kind of glad you didn’t.” His voice lowered an octave. “I’m glad neither of us did.”

“Uh-hu. Yeah. Me too.” His brows shot up, yeah, that jerk was clearly visible. 

“Err, ehm. So you want me to pick up breakfast? Bagels?” He didn’t look like he was talking about food at all, and any thought I’d harboured about something so mundane had vanished too. 

“Sure. Sounds great. Uh-hu.”

“Okay, I’ll do that. I’m gonna stop by the bakery, and then I’ll come home.” 

_Home. For fuck’s sake, it is actually_ his _home, calm your shit._

“Good. I’ll be here.” Eh. What the hell. “Seb?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t walk into traffic.” I tilted the screen down and loosened the towel, heard his hissed “fuck” and increased pace as I rung off, my pulse twice the recommended pace for a heavy workout, but with a satisfied smirk of my own. I stood a while, chewing my lip while regaining equilibrium and enjoying both the anticipation and the calm. 

After a few minutes I towelled back up and went happily back into the kitchen where I filled the mug to the brim, sipped it to make sure that yes, he had impeccable taste in coffee—colour me shocked to the core—and took a moment to savour the caffeine before I shuffled on smooth hardwood floors on my exploratory voyage and entered the living room.

Which was a completely different beast. Where the rest of the apartment was smooth and organised, this room was an eclectic hodgepodge of colour and mess. There were rugs and pictures and an enormous couch stuffed with pillows, bookshelves overflowing with knick-knacks in addition to the books, a desk on the far wall, covered in papers, a metal shield with black rings and a red star sat in a corner, _nice_ , small pieces of art and cards and pictures on a corner table, that upon inspection turned out to be gifts from fans, and the only real concession of wealth: a huge screen with a surround sound system connected to both movie and music components. It was pleasant and homey and strangely familiar. I kept getting little jolts of recognition, probably just because some of it I knew, or had seen pictures of. And something else, something faint and intangible, hovering on the edge of my peripheral mind. 

I resisted the renewed urge to snoop, again struck by the unreasonable difference I set between us. But to be fair, I didn’t know that he _had_ invaded my privacy when he stayed over. He probably hadn’t. Probably. And besides, even if he did, what did I have to hide? I was pretty sure my whole collection of toys were in my nightstand, and I’d have woken up if he’d looked in there anyway. _Really? You sure? Oh gods, shut up._

Suppressing the new surge of heat, I made my way back to the bedroom and stopped indecisively at the door. It would be an armour of sorts, getting dressed and meet him on an equal footing, but why bother really. He already knew I was here, naked and ready for anything. As I was at any time anyways. 

Still, the burnt off face was becoming less and less of a hypothesis, but I was nothing if not a realist, I’d know that when I’d hurried him home. So I shrugged and brought my phone and mug over to the bed, fluffed up the pillows and sat back, draping the sheet over my legs and got comfortable.

I sipped my coffee while I started scrolling through my phone, noting another voice message, I should get on that, but deciding on checking my texts first. The first one was from Leila, asking how I was and if I’d want to meet for lunch. I did the math and called it unlikely but decided to hold off until I’d found out what his plans were. In the near to intermediate future I’d have to go home and face the wrath of Nimbus, but there wasn’t a rush, There were a few other messages that could wait and one from my mum, but nothing dramatic. Great. I opened my Instagram to catch up with the world, scrolling mindlessly, hitting the occasional like, trying not to think too much, or rather to still my mind from replaying choice scenes from the night, being in bed didn’t really help the matter— _you’re so beautiful_ —I couldn’t help the warmth that spread in my chest, actor or no, he’d sounded so _genuine_. And why should he even act, it wasn’t like I’d up and leave, I was already caught if it was just a chase. Besides who would even go to such lengths to woo someone who was so clearl— 

I froze, my finger still on the screen, my near empty mug almost dropping in my lap, scared to move. _No. No, no. Fuck no_ . I willed my finger to slide down, and there, two posts up was a crystal clear picture of Sebastian Stan, his tongue neck deep in someone’s mouth. In a haze I slid left and looked at the next picture, angled slightly different, showing the woman's face clearly. _My_ face. Kissing Sebastian Stan. _Fuck_.

A text ticked in, the preview showing it from my friend Marita from back home, containing nothing but an Instagram link and four question marks, and I was near hyperventilating when the screen suddenly flipped to an incoming call. I felt a flip in my brain as it shied away from the current horror to finally click, and I recognised the number, the calls and voicemails. The number I’d called once in a drunken stupor. _Alex_.


	13. Just when I thought I was in.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seriously dude. Really?

_Seb and Alex. Photo:[LK](http://mischief-in-mirkwood.tumblr.com/)_

My head was spinning when I saw the number float in front of my eyes, and I wanted to hurl the phone across the room. Stunned didn’t cover it, I felt in shock, I couldn’t even begin to wrap my head around it. _FUUUCK! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, F_ _—_ I tried to stop my hand from shaking and restart any mental facilities I might still possess, but I was still unable to decide on an action. _FUCK! GET A GRIP! GET A GRIP!_ The image of Sebastian Stan kissing someone— _me, it was me_ —on the street, of Alex’ dejected form as I walked out the door, of Seb across from me at breakfast, of Alex leaning back on the couch above me—a literal series of greatest hits flashed before my eyes, _fuckfuckfuck_ , and I jolted back to life and hit answer.

“Hello?” Nothing. Then busy signal. He’d hung up. _Fuck._ My hand fell down, and I pressed back and Instagram returned in all its horror. Well, this was just great. Damn dandy. Bloody brilliant. Fucking fantastic. Just goddamn great. Then I remembered Marita and that potential clusterfuck. Shit. _I’ll get back to you later._ It would piss her off, but it was all I had _._ It was just too much, too goddamn much. A shrill ping announced a message. A voice mail. _Dammit._

"Hi. It's Alex. Alex Stan." The correction brought an involuntary smile, did he really think I wouldn’t know? I'd forgotten the absurdity—that this voice belonged to a different person. Identical, but different. A different flavour, a little lower. But it could easily have been the same person. "Ehm. I just- Ehm." A heavy sigh. "Listen. I get if you don't want to talk to me, I know—fuck. This is the third time I’m—” A deep breath.” Okay, so I know you called me, and I—fuck. I’m getting a call. Text me, or call or whatever. If you want, I just want to talk to you, I feel really bad about how—anyway, I gotta go.” 

The line went dead, and I sat frozen, the phone still to my ear, examining the turmoil and waiting for it to subside. The hurried, almost desperate tone of the last part of the message made my heart clench, and every untouched doubt and confusion and general suppressed emotion I’d carried with me hit me for the first time in a month.

It wasn’t like I’d forgotten, or that I didn’t want to, the question was: could I?  _ If you got to choose—no question. No, not now, but—Fuck.  _ Yeah. Fuck. How would that even work. So I call him, and then—what? We become friends? He had said he’d want that, the note was seared into my brain, too bad the number had glitched. But did  _ I _ want to be friends? “Just” friends? We had a lot in common, he’d been practically the first “civilian” ever who’d shared my enthusiasm for  _ Paradise Lost, _ or ancient literature—the man could literally cite epic verse in iambic pentameter for fuck's sake—outside of other students and people who were paid to care. There weren’t that many of us. Then of course was the obvious: did I really have a choice? If I was to continue in a relationship with Seb, well, Alex was his brother.  _ A relationship with Seb. _ The new kick to the heart made me fall back into the pillow while the damn picture floated through my head, followed by Alex’ expression when I’d left him. Of all the things I needed these two were right at the bottom of the list, but for different reasons. And with completely different connotations. Shit. Why? Why now?  _ When then? In a month? Next week. Why not before... _ Oh for fuck’s sake. For absolutely shit's sake. 

I pulled up my messages, and there they were: two voice messages that I’d ignored. Two messages from the day before. One from the early afternoon when Seb had called, and one from when we’d come back and, well, been busy. He’d called while I was—While we were— _ Okay, it is okay to finish a thought. If you can’t finish them, don’t start them. _ While we were having sex. Oh gods. Why did it feel like he’d been in the room, and why the absolute fuck did I feel guilty about it? I clicked on the first message. 

“Hi. It’s me. It’s Aleksei. Alex. Alexander Stan. You know, Seb’s brother.” He chuckled. “Yeah. So I’m calling you back. You called me a few weeks ago, but—I—It took a while before I found out it was you that had called, and then I felt weird because it had taken so long—and—Yeah. I’m just calling you back. If you want to talk. Okay, I’ll try you later. Hope you’re good.”

The husky tremble in his voice was dangerous and endearing in equal measure. I knew I wasn’t being totally rational, it was a bad idea in a long crapshute of ideas, but I clicked on the next one just the same.

“Yeah, hi, it’s me again. Alex Stan. I tried to call earlier today, but maybe you didn’t see, so I thought I’d try again. But now I realise it’s late and that you might be in bed. I’ll try again tomorrow, hope you have a good night.”

The sound that burst out was far from dignified.  _ Why yes, thank you, good sir. My night was excellent.  _ Jesus. The morning however, promising as it had been, was leaving a little to be desired. The phone was slipping slightly in my hand from the sweat and strain, and I dropped it and flexed, the computer scare was enough of a tech crisis for one day. Well, fuck me. What are the signs of a heart attack, and how could I provoke one if this didn't do the trick? 

So he wanted to see me. Or talk to me. That’s fair. That didn’t mean much. In fact, it meant fuck all.  _ You know, he could've been serious about the just friends thing. Maybe you don't have a say, maybe he doesn't want to be more, no matter what you want. Maybe he doesn't want to be friends at all, and he just wants to clear the air. Or maybe. Or maybe.  _ In that case, well. Not really an option as things stood.  _ Damn _ . Why did that hurt, it shouldn't hurt like that. 

_ "You really don’t know, do you?"  _ The slight tenor of exasperation in Seb’s voice when we'd had "The Talk" about Alex, the way I'd protested—it'd been absurd then and it still was, but it was starting to sink in. “ _ Listen. I get if you don't want to talk to me, I know—Fuck”.  _ I scrolled back to the first, or really the last, message and had another listen, trying to decipher whatever was being left unsaid. My finger hovered over the return call button for a long moment. No. I couldn't. Not right now, right here. If he called again then—Well, how flammable that rickety bridge was would remain to be seen.  _ But what now, then?  _ Now there were other pressing matters to be seen to.

My heart was still eroding my ribs, at least he’d done me the favour of shaving a bit off the post-pic hysteria, but I still had to digest that. I hesitantly opened the app and began scrolling, why did I even follow his tag?  _ Because you’re an idiot. And because, well. _ It wasn’t like I’d even considered not to, even if, truth be told, I’d not checked the tag for weeks. I’d not been much online really, strange how I’d not really thought about that. And considering the cost, well. The post slid into view, and I stopped.

It was a technically good photo, apart from what it meant. It was pristine in its clarity, not at all pixelated, even when zoomed in, and there was no mistaking the object, or objects, and there was no way to deny the content. The second was even worse, the photographer had zoomed in their own damn selves, and my face was clear as day, even if it was half profile. _ Why couldn’t I’ve tilted the other way? _ Dammit. Huh. I realised I was tilting my head back and forth, trying to determine which way I moved in from, but then I realised that usually, so far at least, he’d been the mover and I’d been the movee. I was still annoyingly timid, not assertive enough. Which was new, I’d not really had that issue before. It looked like a good kiss at least, and with a flush I remembered the picture didn’t capture a hundredth of it. 

The sound of the door snapped me back, and my gut sank as reality hit: there was a picture of me, lip-locked with Sebastian Stan on the internet. Fuck. I pulled the covers over me while I listened to him enter and kick off his shoes, keys jangling as they were tossed onto a hard surface, trying to fight the discomfort, this was not how it was supposed to be.

"Live?" I heard him move into the kitchen and return, moving towards the bedroom. "Live?" His tone was tentative as he peeked around the door frame and stepped into the room and hovered by the door. He was all red cheeks and messy hair from whatever travesty of a hat he’d sported, worn, old, grey sweats barely hanging on, a plain black tee revealing itself under the jacket and hoodie he was still in the process of shedding. The hoodie was black. And the jacket was camo.  _ Oh gods, are you kidding me? Why the fuck would he— _ Okay, he didn’t know this was going to happen. Or maybe he thought he’d score if he wore it.  _ Or maybe he doesn’t remember he wore it that day. Calm yourself. _ Jacket or no, he looked incredible, as per fucking usual, and I’d given a lot not to have it marred when he read the room, his eyes darted to the phone, to my expression and his face fell.

"Hi, Seb." My voice was on the croaky side, but it carried so I took the win.

"Ah. So you know."

"Yeah." A humourless laugh escaped me. "Good pictures." I tried for an honest smile, but seeing him made it worse somehow. "Really captured the moment."

He came into the room and sank down on the corner of the bed, half facing me. His smile was apologetic and… wistful? Huh. 

"Yeah. Well, not the best part." He glanced down at his hands before meeting my eyes, my chest thumping visibly as I watched him, how was it possible, how could he feel— 

"Yeah. Not the best part." I looked away, my own hands becoming downright fascinating, but my mood lifted. A little. A lot. Despite it all, a lot. I sighed and let my shoulders and neck relax, damage done, no need crying over it, a solution was the question at hand. "So. What now?"

He shuffled until he was facing me, resting one knee on my covered ankle, enough to send a tingle of a different nature up it. "Er. I—I dunno. It's fucked up, but it happens. Name of the game if you will." He began picking on the sheet, seemingly distracted, rubbing a bit of sheet between his fingers, the movement tickling my skin, and I considered how important this was in the grand scheme of things, did it really matter if people knew? 

_ Depends on the people though. _ Family? Friends? Not so much. But strangers? People who didn't know me, my business laid out for the world's entertainment? With a shudder I imagined what it would be like, what it  _ was _ like. To have to look over my shoulder everywhere I went, to be followed, to be watched, under scrutiny, no privacy, no safety.  _ Damn. _ He had told me, or tried to, and I'd seen it when we'd been out, that couple at the café… I remembered how threatening they'd seemed initially, before I'd understood their intentions, and how defensive he'd seemed at first. How he always scanned his surroundings. How we'd met.  _ He spends his days pretending to be someone else. _ The magnitude of the fact finally sunk in, and I gasped for air. 

"Live?" I felt his eyes on me, but I couldn't bring myself to meet them, not yet. "Live?" He laid his hand on my knee, it was scorching. "Hey." I managed a glance and was met with a reassuring mask trying to hide the damn wistful resignation. "It's okay. I'll sort it out. I've—" 

I glimpsed the hint of a smile before I found his hand an easier subject to examine. I swallowed. "How?"

"Oh, I have a few tricks I've alread—"

"No. How can you stand it?" I reached for his hand, my fingers stopping short by a millimetre, and looked up. "How do you—I dunno. Live like this?"

He didn't look at me, didn't answer, just stared at our hands for a long moment before he closed his around mine and turned it over, his thumb circling my palm gently. He exhaled slowly, taking his goddamn time. 

"I dunno. I've accepted it I guess. The price I have to pay." He tightened his grip, managing for once to comfort and not just arouse. I was probably growing as a person. "As I've said before, I don't feel sorry for myself, I'm well aware of the privileges I have, and I chose this, knowing the consequences." 

"Yeah, but—Is it worth it?" 

His laugh was hollow. "Usually, yes. No doubt." He snorted. "But then this happens." He hesitated. "And I'm not so sure." He glanced at me before resuming his scrutiny of our hands.

I had no immediate response. What could I say? Lie and laugh it off, pretend it didn't matter. But on the other hand, I had chosen it too. I might not have known the extent of the discomfort, but rationally I had known the risks, I _did_ know the risk. _There's a lot of risks here, sure it's worth it?_ _Shut it._ Yes. The doubt was a mere flash, but it was there. To be examined at a later time. When he wasn't sitting there, all vulnerable and exposed. I wanted to reach out and pull him in, but I didn't, I wasn't sure we were at that stage yet. _Yet_. Well that was telling at least. I fastened my grip and inched closer, pulling him in, and the look he gave me left me breathless for the whole second it lasted.

I couldn't decide what made the whole picture debacle seem so inconsequential, his mouth, hot, wet and hungry, would normally take precedence, but the way his hand fisted my hair or the other threading his fingers with mine, clenching it between us—it was exhilarating in another way, a new way, a barrier broken. He scooted closer, released my hand and reached around me, hit my bare back and stopped abruptly. He broke the kiss.

"Yeah, this might escalate." His forehead rested against mine, our slightly elevated breaths mingling and dampening our faces. Two fingers were stroking the edge of the towel, shooting chills down my spine, ironic considering the warmth that was building elsewhere. 

"Is that a bad thing?" His t-shirt was bunched up in my grip and true to form I was tugging at it in pursuit of bare skin while my other hand found his head and scraped his scalp as I buried my hand in the softness.

"God, no." He slipped his whole hand under the towel, causing the precarious knot to loosen, and I felt it give way as he reached my lower back and discovered my convenient lack of underwear. "Ssshit."

"Uh-hu." I swallowed and leaned closer, found his lips, shaking my head, barely touching them before I kissed him gently. "Well, you did survive all that traffic." 

Suddenly I was on my back as he straddled me, pinning me down, moaning into my mouth. The towel was a lost cause of a mess underneath me, all that was between me and every hard inch of him were a pair of sweats and a flimsy sheet that was losing even that quality as we rubbed frantically against each other. 

I was heaving for air as he shrugged loose from my still clenched fists before he sat up and began unwrapping me, dragging the covers down, exposing my whole torso. His face was hectic, and his blown eyes glittered with lust and excitement as he watched me hungrily. My arms fell back and I squirmed underneath him, the unexpected turn leaving only room for him and the prospect of a reprise of the night before. No matter what would happen after, right now the only thing that mattered was him and the heady way he made me feel—not like I was the only woman in the world, but rather, for all of his choices, I was the one he chose.

He twisted the somewhat misshapen—oops I really should treat other people's clothes better—t-shirt over his head and threw it on the floor, pausing for a moment to get an eyeful which let me get one too. The sight of him, bare-chested, sweats barely hanging on, his erection clearly visible, leaving no doubt he was more than willing to see to the increasing flood of slick coating my inner thighs, made my jaws lock shut with a hiss as he pulled the covers towards him and bared me. 

“Fuck me, you’re beautiful.” It was a hoarse declaration that I under the circumstances was proud to even manage but his wide grin showed appreciation for the sentiment. Why he would need confirmation was still so ridiculous to me, but here we were.

“That’s my line.” The slight rasp in his voice was just as telling as his eyes darting from my face to my breasts, down my stomach, my skin breaking out in goosebumps as he traced his fingers at the curve of my ribs, down my side, my waist, along my hip and the sheet still covering it. “That’s my fucking line.” 

My eyes shut as he stroked the fabric aside, circled my mound and slid an exploratory finger down, wriggling in the wet heat. He let out a muffled growl and I arched against him, forcing him further down and he fell, the mattress gave by my shoulder where he braced himself, not withdrawing his hand but grinding on it, his dick jutting at my thigh. 

“You want me to fuck you?” His breath was hot in my ear, the words thick, and I muttered something I hoped was assent through a small whine, in my mind he was already stretching and filling me, the thought dizzying in remembrance. “You want me?” His lips were at my temple, leaving wet dabs, almost distracting enough to obscure that the question was loaded with more than a moment’s desire, but unlike the night before I didn’t wait for the doubt to set in.

“Yes.” I turned and looked at him, met his gaze for a brief moment before he kissed me, his tongue teased my mouth open and met mine gently with a low sigh, evoking equal parts contentment and relief.  _ Fuck. _

I heard Nimbus fussing before I had even gotten the keys into the lock, and when I entered he greeted me with all the dignified offence he could muster. He wasn’t pleased by my abrupt absence, and I couldn’t really blame him. I’d been gone way past the 24-hour mark and he had standards. Wet food standards and cuddling standards. I’d not been gone this long since, well, since Seb _ — _ _ and Alex, yes, yes, I’m well aware, shut up _ _ — _ and I had on that occasion sworn on  _ The Dark Side of the Moon _ it’d never happen again. He’d tried to get me to do it on Milton, but I’d refused. 

“Hey honey. Don’t be mad.” I bent down, and he granted me a quick scratch behind the ear before he trotted into the kitchen with a huff. “Fine! Be like that!”  _ Yeah, take it out on the cat why don’t you. It’s really his fault, isn't it? _ I sighed heavily as I clipped off my boots and hung my coat, disposing of my bag in the chair by the door. Oh well. There are worse things.  _ Yeah? Like what?  _ I didn’t bother replying, I knew it was a discussion I was bound to lose, even against myself. Rationally? Yeah, it was small fry considering. Emotionally? I wanted to kick something _.  _ Or some _ one. Dammit. _

I followed the small mews into the kitchen, fully prepared to make amends for my irresponsible behaviour, trying to keep my brain busy with the mundane and familiar comfort of home and routine. 

I opened the drawer, found a pack of food—salmon according to the happy cat on the label—and got a clean bowl out, conscious he was following my every move with restraint worthy of a high calibre feline such as himself.

"Here you go, babe." I knelt beside him and stroked him while he started to eat but it was no use, the events of the day began their invasion, so I got up and sank down at the table, resting my head on my crossed arms while I succumbed and succumbed to the inevitable. 

* * *

The tenderness gave way to something more feral as he groaned and fell down beside me, spread my legs with his foot and began easing his fingers into me and started twisting and sliding, pushing and withdrawing, stroking my walls, making me writhe and whimper. He knew how to get me going, and I had no intention to stop. 

"Fuck, yessss." I turned away enough to speak, fully expecting him to increase the pace and see it through, but of course the bastard had other plans. 

"No yet." He kissed me hard before he removed his wonderful hand, shoved off and started his downward journey, squeezing my breasts, sucking and nibbling each nipple, the side with his wet hand becoming noticeably chilled, eliciting a new outbreak of goosebumps. “I need to make up for last night.” He dragged the sheet down with him, and left me naked and bare, kneeling between my open legs, hoisted my ankles over his shoulders and went to work.

I’d nearly blacked out when he sank his tongue into my slit, lapping up once and began massaging my clit, flicking and licking, his fingers plunging back in and moving in tandem with his mouth. I grabbed his hair, tearing strands as I held him in place, the sounds of him smacking and sucking following me as I chased the climax.

“Sssshhhitttt.” I drove my nails into his scalp, his satisfied hum resonating straight into my core, his fingers pressing up, circling the g-spot as I came in waves, air escaping me in a drawn-out silent scream.

* * *

“Mrrpt.” I jolted back to the present and saw Nimbus watching me, and I stupidly blushed under his stare. Sometimes he really came off as more than a cat, he looked almost amused. I was still squirming from the memory, my heart and breathing elevated, even at a distance I was not above my complete infatuation. _And more._ I sighed. _Yes. And more._ It was really frustrating, being so dumb and so insightful, I rarely fooled myself into anything so this wasn’t even a struggle. I rubbed my face on my arms _—_ _oh god, I still smell of him; jesus, he smells good_ _—_ and shook my head to spur myself to action. 

“Wanna Netflix and cuddle?” He  _ mrrpted _ again and led the way into the living room, which looked unusually drab and cramped after the grand facilities I’d just vacated. Hmmm. What it did have, however, was the alluring comforts of home so I settled down beside the cat and slouched down on the pillows, patting my lap in way of an invite, ignored the pulsing between my legs and tried not to dwell on the fact that only a few days ago Seb had almost broken our fragile agreement right in this spot.  _ Worth the wait though _ .  _ Shush, we’re watching Stranger Things. _

I woke up, my eyes adjusted to the dimmed light, and I saw I’d been gone for almost four hours. Fuck. I’d planned on getting some work done. I stretched and disturbed the weight on my shoulder where 8 pounds of fur and obstinance was perfectly content and felt a stab of envy. He didn’t have to deal with complications and movie stars and the general public.  _ And a twin. Don’t forget that.  _ I groaned. Like I could. I turned to my side, burying my nose in my shirt again, letting his scent fill my head.

* * *

“What are you thinking?” He brushed his chin over my head, I could feel strands catching in his beard, the sensation reassuring somehow. 

"Nothing." I traced his pecs through the damp hairs that mottled his chest, enjoying the post-coitus calm. "Everything."

"Everything, huh." He pulled me closer, still speaking into my hair. "Does that cover social media?" His body went still as he held his breath.

I hesitated, I didn't really want to bring that up, not yet. But it wasn't like I could ignore a direct question, he was an integral part of the problem after all. "There might be some stray thoughts concerning public image, yes."

"Huh." He exhaled slowly. "And what might those be?"

"Mostly that I don't think I want one." It was my turn not to breathe, said out loud it sounded so definite. _ Is it though? _ I tried the thought on without much luck.  _ The fuck am I supposed to know, give me time to digest for fuck's sake. _ "But also that I haven't really had time to think about it, I need time to digest."

"Yeah. I get that." He reached for my hand and drew a finger over the back before covering it. "It sucks. I wish I could just keep you locked away from all that."

I chuckled. "Locked away? At your disposal?"

His whole frame rumbled. "Well, there's always a silver lining." He tightened his embrace again. "I mean, a beautiful woman, ready and willing, as you would be let's be real, at any time I want? Well."

I twisted upward and met his laughing eyes, grabbing a handful of hair for good measure, and was rewarded with a wince. "Ready and willing.” I scoffed. “Fuck you. I'm deeply offended. I'm a good girl, Mr. Stan. Always have been." 

We both tensed when my words sank in, I blushed furiously and had to hide my face in his shoulder, I could feel the grin that spread across his face. 

"Really?" 

"Shut up."

"That doesn't sound like a good girl."

"Well, I've decided to abandon the straight and narrow. Live a little, you know?”

“Oh yeah. Kinky nun, that’s right.”

“Oh my god.”

“To be fair, I wouldn’t mind a naughty girl either.” 

Could he perhaps feel my face burning his skin? The way he kept trying to suppress the laughter suggested maybe, and I knew it was a losing battle no matter what, besides… Well. I—I didn’t much like the idea in principle, but the way  _ he  _ said it, well.  _ Good girl. Naughty girl. _ Fuck. It sounded more enticing than it should, and I couldn’t hold back a small shiver as my midriff clenched. 

“Well, keep this up and you won’t get either.” 

His jaw slammed shut dramatically, he was still shaking and I shook my head, my small victory at least causing the blood to recede from my cheeks. The silence was comfortable but short-lived, of course he’d not let me have that, I was such an easy mark it was shameful.

“So what I’m hearing is that if I behave, I’ll get both?” He was no longer trying to curb his relish, and who could really blame him. I felt his chin on my head again, and he nudged me, coaxing me to look up and I complied meekly. The sight startled me.  _ There's the insecurity _ . It was only a flash, but it was there. He composed himself and the moment was gone. "A good girl and a bad, rolled into one, locked in for my convenience. Huh. I'm starting to like this plan, I wish I'd known about it before."

_ Before what? _ I choked on the retort, what could I say? I’d probably give him anything, naughty or nice, but what had happened to that charming insecurity in evidence just seconds ago? 

"Well, maybe I'll decide on celebrity after all." I lost myself a little, so unfair to bottle all that beauty into one face. "Maybe I’ll find fame appealing, how bad can it be?"

“It’s not the worst thing. There are perks.” He chuckled, in my ear the vibration became a purr. 

“Oh, yeah? And what might those be?” I knew where he was going, and readied my fingers for a pinch.

“Oh, you know. The adoring fans for one.” 

I got a good one in before he managed to twist away and tighten his grip so I couldn’t reach. “You are such an asshole. Conceited.” I sniffed. “I think you might believe your own hype just a bit too much.”

“Yeah?” He barely kept his voice steady. “What hype is that?”

“Why should I tell you, it’s all lies.”

“Yes, but I’d like to hear them all the same.” He eased his grip so I could get more comfortable, calm settling in again, but I couldn’t help notice the genuine sentiment behind his request.  _ Oh boy. _

“You want to know, huh?” I looked up and saw him watching me, as I knew he would be. 

“Well, yeah. It might answer a few things.” He was still smiling, but there was something serious lurking behind the facade.

“Like what?”

“Why you’re here.”  _ Oh are you kidding me? _ Well, this was going to be fun.

“You know why.” I focused on his chest again, the hairs a bit coarser in their dry state, tickling my palm and fingertips pleasantly. 

“No, I really, really don’t.” He stroked my hair, looking past me before he met my eyes again. He smirked, but it was completely negated by the way he gauged my reaction.  _ Shit. _

“Seb…” The word hung there while I tried to shake off some my stupidity, why should I fear embarrassment or inconsequential matters like rejection, he was clearly riding the honesty train, and there was no reason why I shouldn’t at least try to get a ticket too.  _ Coward. Such a coward. He’s waiting for an answer.  _ Fuck it. “How—” I inhaled to give the words a good kick. “Do you really not see why? I mean, how can you not?” The wait was awful, but I guess I deserved it.

He shrugged. “I dunno. It’s hard sometimes to tell the difference.” His fingers painted small circles on my shoulder, and I couldn’t help the shiver. At least it improved the mood, he sounded lighter as he went on. “You know, the fame thing or just, me.” He tilted my head up.  _ Fuck, those eyes are pretty. Oh my god, sing a different tune, that one went stale 300 glances ago. Holy shit, you’re a mess. Well, yeah. That’s the goddamn problem.  _ “You know, like the Rita Hayworth quote about her most famous character, ‘Every man I knew went to bed with Gilda and woke up with me.’ I mean, I know it’s not the same, but sometimes I mean… Bucky, Marvel all that, it’s so big, it sometimes feels like it eclipses my whole life. Again, I’m not bitter, I’m not trying to whine, because all the privilege  _ does  _ weigh up for it, I’m so grateful for all the opportunities, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Except, you know.” 

I didn't move a muscle.  _ Maybe I should move a muscle, maybe I— _

“Like now. Because it has happened. And Bucky is a great character, and I love playing him, but he’s not me. I’m awkward and weird and nerdy and depressed half the time. So yeah. I wonder.”

I didn’t know what to say, I was completely at a loss, I couldn’t have spoken even if I had the words, I was tearing up, and I wasn’t breathing. I turned away, I didn’t want him to see if my eyes flowed over. He didn’t move either, for which I was thankful. Strangely, however raw his admission was, it didn’t feel too much. It felt true, and just about right, and it fucked me over royally. There was no denying it, I’d never come back from this. 

After about three hours—4 minutes objectively—I gave it a go. “I’m sorry. I really am, but that’s not me. I mean, sure, I love Bucky, he’s amazing, my favourite character ever bar one and let’s be real, you look fucking hot as him, jesus fucking christ so hot, but Seb, he’s not real. You are.” Finally. He exhaled, inhaled, pulled me closer and grinned, sending my heart straight into overdrive. 

“You think Bucky’s fucking hot, do you?”

“Shut up.” 

“You wanna help with that?” I smiled into his chest before I twisted up to meet his lips, warm and waiting, and why was it always so wonderful? He hummed into my mouth, our tongues playing, none of us escalating for once, the intimacy doing all that on its own self.  _ Damn _ . He released me with a satisfied sigh, and I snuggled closer and draped my leg more firmly over his, showing immense strength of character by not grinding to relieve the new ache, I was pretty sure drenching his thigh might escalate things, and right now this was just… enough.

“You’re pretty amazing, you know.” He didn’t whisper, but there was a confessional quality to the statement, maybe it was just the proximity that made him sound a bit choked up.  _ Yeah, let’s go with that. _

My heart clenched, why even bother. “You’re pretty.” 

“You’re hysterical.” He chuckled. “And also funny.”

“Haha.”

“And hey. I am so sorry about the mess. You know from before.”

My brain clicked. _ Before what? _

* * *

_ No _ . _ No, no, no, no. _ I rejected the memory, recoiling from what I knew was coming and sat up, my hands curled into fists on both sides of my head, swallowing back the tears _ — _ _ not now, I can’t, I can’t, fuck— _ pulling my hair to redirect my train of thought.  _ Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. And also fuck. _ I began running through my options, I could either sit there like an ass, reliving every detail I wanted to forget or I could do something productive. The day was still, well, a little mature, but not lost yet. I reached back and ruffled the soft fur and rose, determined to exercise any demons by a solid plan, hard work and the wonder of bottling up any and all uncomfortable emotions I’d ever possessed.  _ Yes. _

A shower then. I’d left in such a hurry, I’d not really thought about it until I was sat on the train, which, considering my track record, had to be something of a miracle. Of course, that my skin was completely saturated by him didn’t help, I needed to create some distance and fast. So I went into the bathroom, undressed and stepped under the steaming torrent before I had time to reconsider, and stood there until the water started cooling. Step one achieved. 

Step two was easier. Dressed in the cosiest of clean jammies I could find, I put the kettle on, brewed a french press of coffee, spread some almond butter on a few rice crackers and fetched my laptop from the hall. Then I brought everything to my desk and settled in, feeling downright pious.  _ Ah. That’s better. _ I opened my file and got to work.

All good intentions aside, after about half an hour I leaned back, exasperated and frustrated. Fuck. Not even Milton, my one  _ true _ true love _ — _ _ shut it, don't even— _ could curb the intrusion of the morning’s events, both the good,  _ no amazing, _ and the bad,  _ no awful. _ Fuck. My thoughts wandered before I could stop them, and I let work be work, maybe if I indulged I’d be able to move on after.  _ Fat chance. _ But indulge I did.

* * *

The scream was silent, but the rest of me was not, blood and breath and muscles were competing for attention, I couldn’t really feel anything apart from the endless surge of pleasure, all my focus was on the source of it where I heard him through the haze, thick and gravelly.

"That's it, that's it, let me see you, fuck, that's beautiful." He slowed down and stilled his hand, the flat of his tongue pressing my clit as it throbbed in tune with the clenching around his fingers, my whole midriff contracting as I rode it out. He didn't let up until I began relaxing, grinned as he peeked up at me, his face coated and shining, his beard practically dripping. "God, how I love watching you come."

"Really?" I was still panting and it came out a bit warbled. "That's fortunate. It'd been awkward if not." The slight tremble worked against me, but I doggedly trudged on, trying to ignore the fact he'd settled himself with his arms on my hips, his chin on his hands across my stomach, a positively angelic expression slapped on his stupidly stunning, albeit dishevelled face. "You are above average good at it after all."

"Yeah?" He smiled and rose, grinning wider as he crawled towards me, not stopping before he was an inch from my face. "You think I should try and see if I can improve my grade?" He flexed his hips and let me feel the hard ridge still covered by his pants.

"Mmmhmm." I twisted under him. "If you think you might, sure." Strange how much easier the quips came after I had, well, come.  _ Oh gods, we’re really in it, aren’t we? Yeah. _

His smile had the teasing, slightly feral expression that comes with the prospect of a good fuck, but his goddamn eyes were crinkled and exuded a tender joy that sharply contrasted his blown pupils.  _ Oh yeah, we’re in it now, both legs firmly planted in the land of thoroughly fucked. _ Both emotionally and physically, and it was a toss-up which was the more dominant part at the moment.

“We won’t know until I try, will we?” He covered my mouth, the tangy saltiness of myself combined with the smell and taste of him exhilarating and stirring me right back into action, I was so ready for him it nearly hurt. I embraced him, arms and legs alike, clung to him as my hips moved at their own accord, soiling the annoying fabric still covering his cock. “Fuck.” He fumbled blindly for the nightstand where the condoms were—why he bothered to put them away I had no idea, but at least he knew where they were. He crushed and tore the box in his hurry to produce one—even watching him bite into and tear the foil renewed the flush of arousal flooding from me. He erected enough to wriggle the sweats and boxers to his mid-thighs and rolled it on deftly. Clearly we weren’t going for politeness at this juncture, and I didn’t mind one frickin bit. 

* * *

_ Well, that’s not doing anyone any good. _ A fine remark from mine truly considering that my hand was actually between my legs, my thighs clamped around it. The man was far from perfect, but good gods above and below, he could fuck. Okay, so that was a bust. I grabbed my mug and rose reluctantly, having to steady myself, oh damn could he fuck, the mere echo of it made me a bit wobbly at the knee.  _ Well, that’s not all he can do. So get over it. Stop. _ I went into the kitchen, chiding myself every step of the way, but truth be told, the predicament was a pretty bad one. How was I supposed to move on when all I wanted was to focus on what made him so irresistible in the first place? Damnit. I felt the pressure behind my eyes and took a deep breath to stop the tears. If I could just get through the night, and then the next day and the day after that and—But could I? Again? After this?  _ Was it really that bad?  _ Shit _. I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. _

* * *

I knew what to expect, but the overwhelming sensation of him thrusting into me, deliberately and cruelly slow, wasn't something I'd ever get used to. He filled me so completely that when he began moving the void he left behind each time he pulled out was almost painful, I wished I could keep him there, buried in me, connected to every cell, every nerve radiating shocks of heat and sweet ache. It was addictive to the point of self-destruction, I'd give anything for him to never stop.

He was heavy on top of me, every deep plunge trapping me firmly into the mattress, restricting my movement aside from my arms that were locked around his waist, my hands on his ass, pushing him deeper, harder, faster as he almost split me in half, my legs spread so wide my hips threatened to snap apart to accommodate him.

My moans and whimpers mixed with his grunts and growls saturated the space between us. I wasn't gonna last long, I even entertained the thought of asking him to slow down the brief second my brain contained any hint of coherency, but I didn't possess that level of restraint, not with this, not now. 

He fucked the breath out of me in bursts and after a short while my pussy began beating in rhythm, and I reached the heights I was reaching for, gasping and moaning in desperation. 

"Fuck." He hissed as he braced himself on one arm, and hooked the other under my knee, impossibly ramping up the pace as he rammed into me with even more force and fucked me through my orgasm before he chased his own. "Aaahhhh, fffuckk." He crushed me when he fell, his hips jerking while he emptied himself in spurts, my own convulsions coaxing every last drop out of him as we fought for air, our lungs close to bursting, the soaring elation and contentment making my heart a possible casualty too. Fuck.

* * *

No one could say I didn’t make amends for my weaknesses, or at least tried to. The bathroom was pristine, the kitchen impeccable, the bedroom close to perfection, and if there were any dust specks left in the house, they'd gone into hiding by the time I checked the time. 11:15 pm. Earlier than I'd expected, my valiant efforts had been more efficient than I'd thought, and they'd served their purpose well. I was dead tired and my brain was blissfully blank, maybe a good night's sleep was within reach after all. I stowed the vacuum away, coaxed the literal scaredy cat from his hideout under the bed and appeased him with treats before I hit the shower again. Mid scourge I'd thrown in a change of sheets and no way was I gonna forego the priceless enjoyment of burrowing clean under them.

I snagged a couple of Advils and a glass of water to bring with me, my head was heavy from the strain of the day, or days, or weeks honestly, and I needed the sweet relief of sleep, preferably dreamless, and a headache was pretty counterintuitive. Nimbus beat me to it, he was already lying comfortably in his spot, the same spot where—No. I drew the blinds and curtains, effectively shutting out the noise of the street and sparse nightlife, nothing was going to disturb me if I could help it. I slid under the duvet and tucked myself in, my pillow already vibrating from the incessant purring behind me. _ Ah. That’s the fucking stuff. _

I didn’t bother setting an alarm, I actually hoped I would emerge in a few weeks, I wanted to skip the processing and stages until I reached acceptance. Shit.  _ This is why we can’t have nice things. They break. _ Yes.  _ They don’t have to though.  _ No, but they did.  _ But they don’t  _ have  _ to. _ THEY DID! Yes, they did. They broke, and I with them. And I knew all my work was forfeit.

* * *

“Before what?”

His brows shot up. “Huh?”

“Before what? You said you’d wished you’d known before. Before what?”

“Oh. Yeah. That.”

“Yes?”

“Well, I just didn’t want you to worry, and so I made some arrangements that should help.”

“With what?”

“The Instagram thing. The picture.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I—Okay, so I’ve had this happen before. Not exactly like this, but it has happened before, with pictures and rumours, you know, complications and gossip.”

I nodded, remembering the outcry a few times when he’d been seen with unknown women, and the ensuing pandemonium. But then they’d almost always gone away, because it always turned out to be— _ No. No way. _ “Yes?” I was frozen, not sure if I wanted him to continue.

“Well… I called and asked of course—” His voice sounded faint and far away, this couldn’t be happening. 

_ “Okay, so I know you called me, and I—fuck. I’m getting a call. Text me, or call or whatever.” _

“—I mean, he wasn’t happy, he actually said no at first, which I get, I mean…” He trailed off, his face falling with every second of icy silence.

“Y—You—” I inhaled deeply to get the momentum I needed. “You asked Alex?”

“Yes.”

“To do what? Pretend to have been kissing me on the street?”

“Well, yes. I mean, not like that—” He watched as I scrambled and braced myself on my elbow, letting go of his hand in the process, suddenly I felt cold and exposed, and I pulled the sheet up to cover myself.

“What then? Just for show?”

“Well, yeah. Of course, it’s not like I’m sugg—”

“So you—” I closed my eyes, trying to formulate a coherent sentence through the rising anger. “So you decided—So you—” Two deep breaths. “So you did what, Sebastian? You asked your brother if it was okay with him to pretend to be my boyfriend as far as the world is concerned, and then you…?”

He rose to my level, looking utterly dejected but I didn’t care. I was too mad to care, to mad for anything else to break through, he could’ve been crying and I would’ve been unmoved.

“Then I wrote a message on one of the posts asking people to please respect my brother’s right to privacy.” 

I stared at him for an eternity while the full impact sank in, not moving a muscle until I sent him a last stony glare, turned away and got out of bed, hesitating before remembering where my clothes were, hastened into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind me. FUUUUCK!!! I didn’t even want to cry, I just couldn’t believe it, how had—what had—how did he think—FUCK! I was half-dressed when I heard the small knock and his apologetic voice through the door.

“Live?” Oh, great.  _ Full circle. _

“Fuck off, Sebastian.” I almost tore the shirt as I wrenched it over my head, hopping on one foot as I pulled on a sock.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I only wanted t—” 

The last sock in hand I forced the door up, hoping the hinges would give so I at least could go home having left  _ some  _ damage and not take it all with me. “You only wanted what? Huh? What did you want, Sebastian?” He’d pulled the sweats back on, the déjà vu complete with him contrite and half-naked.

“I wanted to protect you, I thought you didn’t want—”

“But you didn’t ask, did you? You only thought, you didn’t fucking ask, did you?”

“No, I wanted to—” he waved his arms imploringly, “I only wanted to stop it. Before it became too big. To protect you. I didn’t want you to have to deal with this, I know you don’t—”

“But it wasn’t your decision to make!” I felt my precarious control slipping, my voice was starting to break and edge close to hysteria. “It’s my life, Sebastian. It’s not yours, it’s not your fucking decision—”

“But you don’t understand, I had to act fast, I had to get control of the narrative, it’s import—”

“IT’S NOT YOUR NARRATIVE, SEBASTIAN. IT’S MINE, AND FOR ALL THE WORLD YOU HAVE DECLARED ME SOMETHING I’M NOT. IT’S MY LIFE, AND MY LIES TO TELL, I’M NOT A FUCKING PROP FOR YOU TO PLAY WITH, HAVE YOU ANY IDEA WHA—”  _ Well, there’s the hysteria. _ Swell. 

He looked like I’d struck him, and I’d have to admit the thought didn’t seem unappealing, but I’d run out of steam, I was empty, I was done. And I was heartbroken. Again. Fuck. 

I left him, slouched on the bed, head hidden in hands, gathered my belongings, got dressed without another word and walked out, leaving the best thing that had happened to me behind without any prospect to repair the damage.  _ Dear gods, no. _

* * *

The stark, bright reality set in, and I burrowed under the duvet to coax some warmth into my chilled bones while I crossed my arms tight around me to hold my shattered heart together as I curled up and finally wept.


End file.
